


Twin Sons

by HopelesslyLost



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Ahsoka shows up in chapter 9 technically, Bring BALANCE to the Force, Darth Maul is 18, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Politics (Star Wars), Maul centric, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Padawan Darth Maul, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Redemption, Self-Harm, Sith Code, Slavery, Tags May Change, Tatooine Slave Culture, The Force, The Force is Tired of Waiting for you to get your Shit Together, The Lord of the Rings References, To a point, Xenophobia, additional warnings will be placed within individual chapters, breaking everything to fix things, but I thought it was funny, can you really call yourself a 'Master' if you can't explain it to a nine year old?, chapter 12 is a 'canon-not-canon' kind of funny bonus, eventually, everybody needs a hug, everyone gets therapy, fixing the galaxy one conversation at a time, good fucking luck Sheev you dumb bitch, lots of talking, non-linear recovery, slow burn redemption, there's probably not going to be much art, we're doing some careful set-up here, we're taking cues from 2003 Clone Wars in terms of power, you get my attempt at a Genndy Tartakovsky drawing style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 165,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopelesslyLost/pseuds/HopelesslyLost
Summary: Maul would be able to plant seeds of Darkness within the Skywalker boy, and ultimately Sidious would be able to help them bloom, and in the end…when Sidious stood before Maul and told him it had all been a test, when he opened his arms to him… Maul would come, and Sidious would gain both Apprentices, and their attachment would see to the fact that they did not turn on each other, while Maul’s attachment to him would see that there was no further threat, of course, aided by the Skywalker boy’s own attachment. The Rule of Two was always meant to end with him - ch. 10A slow-burn on Slavery, Freedom, and bringing Balance to the Force.
Relationships: Darth Maul & Anakin Skywalker, Darth Maul & Everyone, Darth Maul & Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul, Plo Koon & Darth Maul, Qui-Gon Jinn & Darth Maul, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 893
Kudos: 753
Collections: An Assortment of Damn Good Fics, Best Fics





	1. A Chosen Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the first time in a very long time that I've actually tried to write something Star Wars, and the very first time that I'm writing something that's just Star Wars. I recently watched the last season of Clone Wars, was reminded of my love for a very obvious character and then spent...weeks? Trying to avoid actually writing the idea that kept growing in my head. Unfortunately, I have poor self-control so here we are LOL. This story might be a little rough. I'm very much a fan of Maul as villainous, to be fair, but there's...such an interesting angle in examining the what if's and the possibilities. I chose the ages that will eventually be brought up for reasons LOL. Each chapter will have its own individual warnings posted just so you know what you're getting into with each one, and if there is extra research I have done I do tend to link to it, if only because I find some of this interesting. That said in this particular instance there would be 30+ links because I got to around 38 wookipedia tabs researching just this first chapter? This, by the way is why this story is Wookipedia 2.0. 38 Wookipedia tabs and counting, I'll post the grand-total at the end lol.
> 
> The Tatooine Slave Culture here will be my invention. I hadn't realized initially that the Tatooine Slave Culture tag was specific to Fialleril when I wrote this being honest, but as Slave Culture and Tatooine specific in general is going to be a main focus I don't...really think it would work to remove it. I don't know what else to call it though so I like. Apologize LOL! I hope that doesn't ward anyone off... I just find it that much more fulfilling and interesting to do that kind of creativity myself, not to mention I think it's good to put in the work for this, because like...I don't know, guys. It's slavery. It deserves the work.
> 
> That said, let's have some:
> 
> Warnings:  
>  References to Slavery  
>  References to Past Beatings

Anakin didn’t know what was happening.

Qui-Gon had instructed him to remain here with Obi-Wan while the Council saw to something, leaving him in the Council Room, stating that it was important that he didn’t leave. They would discuss what to do with him after they took care of business, and while Anakin had been assured repeatedly that they would come back to decide whether or not to take him as a Jedi (and he’d been repeatedly assured they’d take him, particularly after the Naboo blockade)… There was fear there. Fear and a deep sense of unease, as well as something else…something…something _deeper_.

It _called_ to him.

Anakin thought it had something to do with the one that they had captured, the man with the black tattoos, the one that felt like an open wound whenever he came near him.

The one whose red and yellow eyes had stared into his soul and _squeezed_.

Obi-Wan had explained that the man had been captured and drugged, special Force inhibitors used to both mask his signature as well as keep him from doing anything to harm them. They needed to keep him alive.

Anakin felt the statement deep in his bones, a sort of ache that gnawed at him. Why would they need to keep him alive? Were they planning on questioning him? What _was_ he? Why were the Jedi so interested in him?

Why did Anakin feel like he needed to _be_ there?

The longer he remained inactive, the longer that he didn’t act on that feeling the worse it got until Anakin thought that his skin would catch fire with it. It was in that moment that Anakin finally gave in.

Anakin ran.

Obi-Wan’s voice called out to him, but Anakin didn’t hesitate, pushing the button to open the door and running out as fast as he could, the older boy hot on his heels. As Anakin ran, he found himself anxious at how maze-like the actual temple was. How was he going to find where he was going?

How was he going to find _him_?

But now that he was running, he found that the force that was pulling him was getting stronger, not weaker. Anakin followed it down corridors and stairs, sliding down railings and running past wandering Jedi and their Apprentices, voices calling out in surprise as he ran past them. None of them moved to stop him, and even Obi-Wan seemed to be more running _with_ him than to catch him.

Perhaps they felt it, too.

Anakin finally made it to the lift that led to the lowest levels, panting, Obi-Wan breathless next to him, but there was no attempt to stop him. Instead, Obi-Wan was staring at him with wide eyes, his expression afraid. Anakin knew then that the Apprentice felt it, too, and they both turned to the opening of the lift, willing it to go faster. Obi-Wan’s hand rested on his when he instinctively reached out for him, and when the doors came open, Obi-Wan led him, the two of them moving as fast as they could towards what felt like necessity.

Like _Destiny_.

They burst through the doors at the end of the darkest corridor, and the dark-skinned Jedi that had been holding up a purple lightsaber froze. Anakin took in the sight before him, took in the red-and-black man that kneeled before him, cuffed and drugged and stripped to the waist, those yellow and red eyes staring at the two that had just burst into the room with something akin to incredulity.

Anakin could also see something on that heavily patterned skin that he hadn’t before, something he couldn’t have seen until this moment, bathed as he was in a purple glow.

Scars, so many scars, rising up in the flesh, crisscrossing his back, scars that Anakin had seen before, that he _knew_. They were scars that crossed his.

There were other scars there, too, and those were worse.

Anakin moved without thinking, running forward to stand before the man on his knees, his arms spreading out as he turned to regard the other.

“Don’t kill him!”

The unknown man before him wrinkled his brow, slowly lowering his lightsaber as he looked from Anakin to the man behind him.

“Anakin…” Qui-Gon’s voice started, and Anakin turned to him, only for Obi-Wan to interrupt.

“Masters, wait,” he said, coming forward, and unlike Anakin who was still breathing hard, he seemed to have regained his breath, and his eyes were alight with fear. “Can’t you feel it? Can’t you _sense_ it? It…I don’t think we’re meant to kill him. I think that we’d be making a mistake…”

There was a lingering silence as they turned from the one behind Anakin to each other, and the purple lightsaber was retracted, hung from his belt as he took a step back. “Speak,” he said softly, staring at Anakin. “Why shouldn’t we kill him?”

“He…” Anakin took a breath, trying to force his heart to stop hammering into his ribs, and he looked back at the man kneeling behind him, trying to apologize with his eyes, “he’s like me, sir. He’s like me, he’s a _slave_! His Master made him do this, his _Master_ caused him…don’t hurt him. Not when we have him here, not when…not when we can _free_ him.”

There was a long pause, the only thing audible the sound of the bindings keeping the man’s hands behind his back humming, and Anakin stared up at the man before him, those dark eyes staring down at him.

Laughter.

The sound sent shivers running up his spine, a hollow, empty sound that was made of rage and bitterness instead of anything joyful. Anakin found himself turning around to look at the man kneeling there, those eyes filled hate as well as the fuzziness of heavy drugs. His red-and-black lips spread back in something like a sneer, like a grimace, baring yellowed and cracked teeth, and it was _him_ that was laughing.

“I’m no _slave_ , boy…” he said softly, and his eyes bored into his once again, that hate burning deep.

“It’s okay,” Anakin returned equally softly, “I understand. You’re a person, and I shouldn’t have used that word, I hate it, too, but it doesn’t change the facts.”

The man fell silent, staring at him with those odd eyes, and for just a moment Anakin recognized the look he was given as confusion.

“He’s right,” the man with the purple lightsaber said, his voice soft, and Anakin turned to look at him. “He is not a slave, he’s a Sith.”

Anakin had heard of that word before, had heard the whispered curses and the whispered fear, but he also knew what he was seeing. “He may be a Sith,” he said with a frown, “but he is also a slave.”

“Foolish,” was the hissed comment, and Anakin turned to look at violent eyes that bored into him. “I have trained to be the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, and my Master…” He trailed off, those eyes widening, and there was fear there, fear that Anakin had seen so many times and in so many ways, the _way_ the word ‘master’ left his mouth speaking volumes more than the word itself. Anakin knew then that he was right, and he straightened up.

“You _are_ a Slave.” Anakin frowned at him, and Anakin watched as those eyes narrowed, that mouth splitting into an angry sneer. “And your Master was wrong to hurt you the way he did.”

“Shut up,” the slave hissed, “you don’t know what has been done to me, what I’ve endured to get to where I am, you don’t know the years of torture, the pain that I have undergone to become what I am. You do not know the hate that burns within me, you cannot _begin_ to know what I am. I am _Sith_ , and eventually I will take my place. Eventually I will…” He trailed off, and Anakin watched as his eyes closed, his horned head lowering as he fell into angry mumbles, fighting the drugs that were still rushing through him.

Anakin said nothing for a moment, before turning to look at the Jedi, who was looking at the slave with thoughtful contemplation, and then finally looked to Anakin.

“What do you see when you look at him, Anakin, why did you come here?”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, looking at the slave kneeling there, looking at the scars that marred him, listening to the hate, to the vile things he was saying, and looked up at the Jedi. “I came because I was called, and I see a man that needs to be set free. Surely, sir…the Jedi wouldn’t kill a slave obeying his Master’s orders? Surely you would work to free him?”

There was a long pause, and the Jedi took a step back, looking around at the rest of them, his eyes sharp and pointed, falling upon Obi-Wan as well, who swallowed heavily, his complexion pale, even as Qui-Gon moved to stand next to him, his hand squeezing his Apprentice’s shoulder, his own expression fixed.

The Jedi before him closed his eyes, his expression clouded, searching, and then opened his eyes and frowned at the slave.

“My vote is to detain him,” he said softly, “and see if there is a potential to rehabilitate.”

The slave stared at him, shock spreading through him, and as mumbling rose, as they all quietly began looking at him with more scrutiny visible in their expressions, Anakin felt the energy in the room… _change_. There was consideration there, _possibility_ , and then the slave began speaking.

“No…” he whispered, “ _no_ ,” he shook his head, and moved against his bonds for the first time, his eyes wide, and there was fear there, fear and hate, and as he yelled and then finally let out a sound that Anakin could tell was backed by power and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up… Anakin watched as blood slid out of the slave’s nose, out of his ears, his eyes, and he realized that the slave was fighting against the bonds holding him separate from the Force so much it was _killing_ him…

And then the Jedi’s lightsaber butted into the back of his head, sending him into unconsciousness, and he slumped forward in his bonds, the sound ended, and blood still dripped.

Anakin backed up before looking up at the man standing there, looking up into his face, worry and fear deep within him. “I told you,” Anakin whispered. “He’s _afraid_. He fears his Master.”

There was a long pause, and then a short green-skinned alien slowly made his way down the stairs towards him, leaning heavily on a short cane. “What leads to the Dark Side, fear is,” he said in a soft croaking voice, his large brown eyes piercing as they stared at him.

“Can…can you keep him safe from his Master?”

“We used suppressors on him,” Qui-Gon said, taking a step forward, frowning. “Both in bringing him here, and now that he is here. His Force signature is masked, he will be safe within these walls.”

Anakin took a deep breath and sighed it out, feeling the delight in his soul. “Good,” he said softly, “if we tell him that, do you think he won’t be as scared?”

There was a pause as the Jedi with the purple lightsaber traded looks with the others. “It is possible. But I do not think he would appreciate being with the ones who he was taught to hate. There is a possibility…he will understand rehabilitation as _painful_.”

“It won’t be, right?” Anakin asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You won’t hurt him?”

There was a long pause, and they looked at each other, before Qui-Gon walked forward and kneeled before him. “Anakin, will you give us a moment to talk amongst ourselves?”

Anakin hesitated, “You can’t kill him, Qui-Gon, sir, you _can’t_ …”

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked softly, “can you tell me why?”

Anakin hesitated, “Outside of the fact that you would kill a Slave for obeying his Master?” he looked down, “it feels _wrong_. It feels like…he’s _meant_ to live. Like…like something _wants_ him to live.”

Qui-Gon hummed, his own eyes closing, before finally he gave a short smile and a nod. “We’ll discuss it, thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin shifted, looked one more time to the body lying there still, and looked to the others, but finally nodded. “Can I wait just outside?”

Qui-Gon looked to the other Jedi, who hesitated, before finally giving their own vocal agreements, “that should be fine,” he agreed, and Anakin nodded before going to stand outside.

The tugging had lessened, Anakin finally felt like he could relax.

* * *

Obi-Wan’s heart was still pounding inside of his chest, even as he kept himself perfectly still. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, just that Anakin had started running, and he had gone after him – initially to stop him, and then suddenly, inexplicably, to _help_ him. And as he stood there with his arms crossed in front of him, as he stared at the body lying there still, he felt that same tug.

Obi-Wan didn’t understand. The Sith were the most dangerous threat to the Galaxy, and yet…and _yet_.

As he looked over to his Master, he knew that he was going to have to start explaining, his Master’s was face thoughtful as he stared at him, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath in preparation.

“Obi-Wan,” his Master said gently, standing up, and walking over towards him. “Will you explain what happened?”

Obi-Wan was expecting for all the eyes to be on him, which was why he was able to take one more grounding breath, and finally step forward, uncrossing his arms and looking once again, to the Sith sprawled out on the ground. “Should…should we do something about him?”

Master Windu hesitated for a moment, looking down at the Sith for a beat, before ducking down next to him and slowly pushing him into a proper recovery position before putting his hand over the Sith’s face, his eyes closing, reaching out. Master Windu’s expression twisted slightly, and he visibly pushed harder, his eyes closing tight, and finally backed away. “He rejects any attempt to heal him. I don’t know if it is his own denial or the Force that rejects him.”

“I don’t believe it’s the Force that rejects him,” Obi-Wan said softly. Master Windu hesitated, before giving a soft hum that might have been agreement. “Have none of you felt it?” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to handle the mixed responses, the way some Jedi nodded in agreement, and others frowned, denials on their faces, on their tongues. “We…we can’t kill him. The Force calls him, it calls on…it calls on _us_ , too.”

“Is that what happened with Anakin?” Master Qui-Gon asked.

“Anakin ran out of the room before I could stop him,” Obi-Wan returned, his eyebrows pinching as he looked down, recalling the feeling that flooded through him as he ran after the boy. “He was going so fast I could barely catch up to him, and at first…at first I ran to _stop_ him, but the more we ran, the closer we got…the more I could _feel_ it. We were meant to get here. We were _meant_ to stop you from killing him.”

There was a long pause, before the Council of Jedi looked to each other, and then looked to Obi-Wan.

“We will discuss this,” Master Plo assured quietly, coming up to him, and looking at the Sith lying there. Obi-Wan felt the way that he was staring at the Sith, the force of the stare, and knew that Master Plo felt whatever odd thing had brought him here, too. It made him nod, give a brief bow to the rest of the Jedi, before leaving to stand by where Anakin was sitting. Obi-Wan took a breath, sinking down to sit next to the boy that he had been so uncertain of before, and found a new understanding growing.

There wasn’t many who could stand before the Council and make demands like that. There were even fewer that could get them to listen.

Perhaps there was something to this whole idea of the Chosen One after all. If nothing else…the Force was certainly strong with him. Strong enough that Obi-Wan had felt it, too.

“They won’t kill him, will they?” Anakin asked softly.

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, thinking, before looking to the kid next to him. “I don’t think so,” he returned equally softly. “Can you feel it? It feels…at peace.”

Anakin hesitated, closing his eyes, his head tilting back, and a smile slowly appeared on his face. “Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at him. “You’re right, thank you.

Obi-Wan smiled at him, giving a brief nod of his head. “I don’t know what that Sith will bring to us…” he said finally, taking a deep breath and sighing it out.

“What _is_ a Sith?” Anakin asked, frowning at him, “I heard of them before, it’s a popular curse, but…” he hesitated, giving a slight shrug. “I don’t know what they _do_.”

“They’re practitioners of the Dark Side of the Force,” Obi-Wan said, his tone shifting, becoming more like the tone his own Master used to lecture him with. “Seekers of power, pleasure, self… But they do it completely at the expense of others. They felt that true power came from anger, from hate…and they used it endlessly. At one point there were many…but between in-fighting and our own war against them…” he hesitated. “We thought they were wiped out completely. Seeing this one, particularly an Apprentice himself…” Obi-Wan trailed off. “Using the Dark Side of the Force is…evil, Anakin, it’s bending the Force to your own will, twisting it. Did you hold his blade?”

“No,” Anakin denied softly, “I saw it, it’s…strange. I didn’t know they made them that _big_.”

“It’s double-bladed,” Obi-Wan said with a smile.

“No _way_ ,” Anakin whispered, his eyes wide, “that’s…” he hesitated, as though realizing that speaking of his enthusiasm for the design would be taken poorly. Earlier, before the pull of the Force, before Obi-Wan realized that the boy really _was_ the Chosen One his Master saw (and Obi-Wan, the more he thought, was certain of that, had felt it as they ran, had felt it when Anakin threw his arms out before Master Windu, when he stood before the Sith and spoke of slavery)… The statement might have been poorly taken before, but now Obi-Wan could smile.

“Yes, it is…pretty…ah…” he hesitated, thinking of the proper word, “ _nice_ , but if you would touch it, you would be able to feel what the Dark Side does. Did you not feel what he _himself_ felt like?”

Anakin was silent for a moment, “I did,” he finally said softly. “He feels like a wound.”

Obi-Wan was surprised. The Sith hadn’t felt like a wound to him, more like…a corruption, a _perversion_ …but now that he thought of it… Perhaps a wound was a better comparison. An _infected_ wound. 

“The Force hurts, or…perhaps _they_ hurt. Either way it’s a twisting and a perversion.” Obi-Wan took a breath. “They almost took over the Galaxy once. The Jedi were the ones to stop them. Or perhaps they stopped each other. The amount of in-fighting was…horrible. That selfishness again, selfishness above all else.” Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “Eventually there was the imposition of a rule of two among the Sith, a Master and an Apprentice, and no more. But I had… _we_ had thought, that the Sith was rendered extinct. To suddenly have one appear here…” Obi-Wan shook his head.

“He’s the Apprentice then,” Anakin said, frowning.

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, “Yes,” he said, remembering the way that the Sith had said ‘Master,’ the fear there, the pain… The _hatred_. “He was.”

The doors opened then, and both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped to their feet, backing away. The Sith was lying on a float lift and as he passed Obi-Wan could see that he was breathing. The relief he felt was strong and burned within him, a breath was let out, tension that he hadn’t even noticed falling from his shoulders. They had _listened_ , though Obi-Wan could tell that some of them did not like it. It was enough to know that he still lived. There was _hope_ then.

Something had finally gone right.

Master Qui-Gon approached the two of them, nodding towards a nearby room, Obi-Wan immediately following directions, Anakin needing to be ushered by his Master with sweeping gestures. The door was closed behind them and Master Qui-Gon smiled at them when they turned to look at him.

“Well,” he said softly, and his voice was filled with warmth and a tinge of pride that Obi-Wan ducked his head at. “You two did _well_ ,” he said softly, and Obi-Wan smiled, for a moment unable to help it. “I am proud of you. You followed the calling of the Force.”

Anakin beamed, “I could feel it, Qui-Gon, sir!” he said, and his voice was full of excitement. “I could _feel_ it, and it…it called me, sir. It _called_ me, and I…I had to do _something_. Will…do you think he’ll be okay?”

His Master hesitated, frowning, and looking down for a moment, clearly thoughtful. “There’s a long _hard_ road before him, but if it’s the will of the Force…I think it’s going to be fine.”

“Will we help him, sir?” Anakin asked.

His Master paused, before kneeling down before him. “I think so, Anakin. I think…that we’re supposed to. And _you_ might be _meant_ to.”

“Do you think that we’re going to defeat the Sith by turning one of their own against them?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Perhaps,” his Master said, thoughtfully. “The future is clouded. But I feel…in some ways I feel as though it’s brighter than it was before.” He hesitated, and then looked to Anakin, “Anakin, would you mind waiting outside while I discuss something with my Apprentice?”

“Jedi stuff?” Anakin asked with a slight cock of his head and a frown.

“Yes,” his Master said, and there was a smile on his face, a gentle one. “I promise it won’t take but a moment, and we will leave together. The Council wishes to speak to all of us later, but first they are going to be preparing a cell for the Sith.”

“You don’t know his name?” Anakin asked.

“Not yet, but we will learn,” his Master nodded.

“Let me know when you do,” Anakin frowned, “I’ve…been calling him something unkind in my head, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“I will,” his Master promised. “Five minutes, Anakin.”

“Okay,” Anakin nodded and left the room.

Obi-Wan held himself as stiff and straight as possible when his Master’s attention turned to him.

“I am very proud of you,” he said softly, and Obi-Wan nearly collapsed. “You…Padawan, do you know what you did here today, Obi-Wan?” His smile was big and proud and there was a spark of warmth in his eyes that Obi-Wan didn’t know how to handle. “You listened to the Living Force, and you obeyed its call. You did this on your own, you have…” he took a breath, and then reached out, taking hold of his shoulders. “You listened to the Force in the way I have wanted you to listen for _so long_ , Obi-Wan. I’m so _proud_ of you, and I…” he took a breath, “Obi-Wan, I can teach you no more. You have learned all that you can from me, and I want to recommend to the Council that you take your Trials. You’re ready to be Knighted, I am _sure_ of this.”

Obi-Wan thought he might collapse, the emotions running through him so much, for a moment too much, burning bright behind his careful control, and he breathed them in, breathed them deep, and then breathed them out. “ _Thank_ you, Master,” Obi-Wan finally managed, and he thought that his voice was steady. “But…are you…are you _sure_? I do not…”

“Obi-Wan,” his Master said softly, and there was a soft smile on his face, and a wrinkle between his eyebrows, “This was the last thing I needed to teach you. The one thing I felt…sometimes… _despaired_ of ever teaching you, much to my…my _own_ detriment, Obi-Wan, never yours.” Obi-Wan was still for a moment, testing for a rebuke and finding none. “It was _my_ failure that you never learned, and I am so pleased for you now that you have. This was the _last thing_ , the last of my knowledge to grant you. Everything else I have taught you, and you have learned well, my Apprentice. _You are ready_. I will tell the Council, and you will be Knighted.”

Obi-Wan felt a smile spread across his face, unable to really help it. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

“Call me Qui-Gon. We are to be brothers.”

Obi-Wan was certain then that his techniques were rendered useless. There was too much happiness within him, and he decided for just a moment to cling to it. He would let it go later, but for now…

For now, this feeling was his.

In the coming months, in the coming years…he would find that he would need it.

* * *

As Qui-Gon finally ushered his soon-to-be-brother (as he was certain the Council would agree, would see what he did, for how could they not) from the room, and collected Anakin with a small smile on his face he reflected.

The Sith had shattered the calm assurance of the Jedi Council in a way Qui-Gon had never seen, much less felt. Rippling around that Council meeting as the Sith was brought to his knees, his tunic having been ripped from him at some point in the transfer here, the droids on the ship needing more access to the skin beneath in order to insert their needles and clean burned skin. It only served to further illustrate not only the burns and the expected wounds, it bared the evidence of long beatings, and the fact that the tattoos seemed to cover most, if not all, of his body.

Qui-Gon thought that he was from Dathomir, a colony of the Zabrak people, and his attention had shifted to Koth, whose expression had not changed – but whose feel had _tightened_.

Defensive, perhaps.

The Sith had certainly focused on him quickly.

Even with this focus, the Sith was calm within the chaos, even in the presence of what Qui-Gon knew were his natural enemies. He even seemed to _revel_ in it, that sharp and brittle edge to him deepening, darkening. Mocking, perhaps.

Though as the Council began questioning him and he said nothing, as he resisted any effort made to pry within his mind with not only his own natural shielding, but with his very aura, Qui-Gon began to think that he was working on trying to mask his fear. Though the question of what he feared was obvious.

As the Sith sneered and spat at Windu as the motion was passed to execute – the product of a lot of pain and frustration and recognition that there was no ability to break it from him, as he snarled at the others, Qui-Gon had never been more certain that it was not _them_ that he was afraid of.

And then Anakin had entered, with Obi-Wan following close behind, the two of them calling out about something that Qui-Gon only now recognized for what it was.

The Force was _weeping_.

It didn’t want him dead, and in their blind haste, to cover up their mistakes, to ignore what was before him…they had been ignoring it.

Though perhaps that wasn’t entirely it, Qui-Gon frowned. As the Sith was finally brought to unconsciousness, Qui-Gon realized that there had been…a _rage_ within him that he didn’t recognize, and he slowly forced himself to let it go. He watched as the rest of the Council seemed to re-center, and he found himself wondering, idly, if the Sith had something to do with it.

Qui-Gon even suspected he understood why the Sith wanted to be dead…

If word got back to his Master of what had happened, if the Sith remained alive for his Master to find…

Qui-Gon had no doubt that what the Sith did to their Padawans was appalling, and the way that the Sith had reacted, the way that Anakin had insisted on the fact that they were alike, that the Sith was a slave… Qui-Gon found himself looking at his own Padawan with a feeling of great dread and a protective wash flooded him. The idea that Obi-Wan would _ever_ fear him that much…

Anakin looked up at him then, smiling, and Qui-Gon smiled back instinctively.

Anakin had proven himself well. Had _proven_ what Qui-Gon had seen, and now that _this_ had happened, Qui-Gon was certain that he would be trained, particularly as he seemed to have resisted the Sith’s influence so well. Though…perhaps, that was because he was stuck within the Living Force so much that there hadn’t been the possibility of being influenced. It would explain why they had both commanded such a presence, why the Sith had allowed himself to speak when he had resisted up until that point. Obi-Wan tossed a glance to him when they drew near their destination, and Qui-Gon smiled at him.

Qui-Gon was aware of what the Code said about pride, about attachment… He couldn’t quite find it in himself to care. Not about this.

Qui-Gon stood before the door to the Council room with his two charges framing him. There would be time to talk about the Sith later, but now he had to properly petition for Anakin once more. Now that Anakin had not just stolen away to Naboo and been a deciding force in their victory, but allowed his attachment to the Force to lead him…

He was relatively certain that there was no way they could refuse his desire for the boy to be trained.

The Council were stubborn. They were not stupid.

He hoped.

Obi-Wan he was not concerned about; they would have seen what he saw. Of this there was no doubt, but he would help them along regardless.

And then they would figure out what to do about the Sith in their midst.

They were bidden to enter, and so Qui-Gon looked to each of his charges once more, before stepping forward.

The Force was with them. It would see them through this trial and what was to come, of this, Qui-Gon was certain.


	2. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin takes his first breath of freedom and the choices that come with it. 
> 
> Maul finds himself in a cell that is not just of his own making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY BROSKIS~ been a while LOL! I don't think that it will be quite as long next time, but I wound up stumbling upon the Darth Maul book series so I have read Shadow Hunter, Lockdown and enough of the Wrath of Darth Maul to get some SEVERE feels and roll around on the ground a while, and then rewatched the Phantom Menace for the first time in.... Literally years. It was fun, I had forgotten some things. I also finished a story that I've been writing for over a year, so that was a lovely experience. Anyway!!! I'm going to be doing a lot of what I wanted the Council to do in the movie LOL. I will say in terms of why they didn't explain anything to Anakin in the first place I kind of feel as though they had absolutely no idea that he wouldn't know that much. I also hold to certain something somethings being canon and so I think that that helped a lot as well. With that said, there are a lot of explanations in this chapter, a lot of my own thoughts about Jedi and why certain things are the way they are and just... YA KNOW. Jedi Philosophy. Only. Respectful Jedi Philosophy. I think we're onto over 50 wookipedia tabs now, yo, I quit counting and I'm crying. That said!
> 
> References:   
> https://external-preview.redd.it/Y_gvNbJbEx515fMatbJceRZ_S_TntegW3fgDhYuLC2U.jpg?s=f68571a3a14d61f36e87b362c7b1b25bd23f2a5d - I've been using this when it comes to positioning everyone in the Council, it is SUPER helpful, like SHIT. This is also how I realized certain someones would probably not be in the Council at the time LOL I'll be...correcting that at some point.   
> https://64.media.tumblr.com/59b6619b3cf02fc12365d02cbc8a29b0/tumblr_p0g1bx3ZUD1w8mobyo2_1280.png - this, if you will look at the bottom left corner will display Sith Containment Cells, fucking sweet, makes things nice and easy because I spent entirely too long trying to figure out if the Jedi had a prison. I don't want to talk about it LOL. 
> 
> Warnings: ...none. I think this is a pretty safe and relatively tame chapter.

Mace Windu had a headache.

The presence of the Sith in their midst was something that none of them could have been prepared for. What made that worse, though, and what caused the pounding in his skull, was the way that they had been so easily swayed by him. The Sith had said nothing, but the palpable rage and hate that had bubbled up from him had been so strong it was _intoxicating_.

It had been intoxicating enough that Mace had found himself with his lightsaber held out and ready to execute the man before him without proper trial or attempt to question.

Mace had never lost control like that, had never found himself so ready to take a life without proper avenues being taken that it rattled him. He breathed it in and breathed it out. He would be spending a long time in meditation to control this feeling, but for now they would discuss what must be done. 

The Force had been very clear with what it wanted, of course. Had made it known to them that this Sith was to be kept alive, and possibly…changed, _healed_. Perhaps they could find a way to cut the infection out, return him to the light. Mace couldn’t understand why they would have been forced to spare him otherwise. 

Their ultimate goal, at least as Mace saw it, should be rehabilitation.

Plo had been quick to volunteer to stay until the prisoner woke up, as had Eeth, and as they were the two that had been the least affected by the Sith’s presence, they had agreed. Eeth in particular would be able to tell if there were distinct issues with their guest that were Zabrak in nature, which, while he was technically from Dathomir and therefore a Nightbrother, there were enough similarities in physiology to make things familiar. 

The Council members left their two comrades behind to guard the prison that had not been in use in so long that it was somehow unsettling to know that it was occupied once more. They made their way back to the Council chamber by riding the special lift that was only accessible to Council members and their Padawans – should they have them – and took their seats, for a moment breathing in the stillness.

The headache was still pulsing between his ears, but as Mace took a deep breath and cleared all thoughts from his mind it drifted, ebbed, and finally vanished altogether.

They had not been prepared for the influence of the Sith. Now that they knew that it was a problem, they would be ready for it.

Mace would not lose control like that again.

There was a pause before finally, softly, “Trained, the boy should be…” Yoda said, his voice certain, and Mace found himself bowing his head.

“Agreed,” he said. “If he could feel the Force crying out that clearly without training…”

“He’s too old…” Ki-Adi-Mundi disagreed softly, frowning. “It is not that I don’t think he’s powerful enough, or that he does not have natural talent…we are talking about removing the boy from his mother. Would he be willing to accept that?”

“He’s afraid,” Saesee Tiin agreed, frowning, but there was a thoughtful look on his face. “And he _does_ have an attachment to his mother, but he is not the only Jedi that had deep attachment. If it is made _his_ decision…”

“Things we must discuss, with young Skywalker,” Yoda agreed softly with a nod. “But discussed they should be. Explain things to him, we should have. Failure, on our parts, that we did not.”

“But who would we Apprentice him to should he choose to follow this path?”

There was a pause, a soft hum coming from Yaddle as she laced her fingers together, looking down. “When does Obi-Wan take his trials, perhaps, the question should be?”

“You think he is ready?” Yarael Poof asked.

“You don’t?” Yaddle returned, a delicate raising of her brow showing her skepticism as she looked to the Quermian. Yarael demurred with a slight nod of his head, his long neck bowing low.

“You are right. I do think he is ready.”

“And if Knighted Obi-Wan is…”

“Qui-Gon becomes free.”

Mace Windu wanted to laugh. Qui-Gon had asked for them to allow him to train the boy before, and they had said no. Here they suddenly were, circling right back to the beginning of the argument and finding themselves with the answer that was both obvious and more than a little amusing, at least to him.

As this was thought, as it was deliberated, and there was a soft agreement that murmured among them, Mace came to realize that there was something that he could feel humming amongst them brighter than it had in what felt like years.

The Force was in agreement.

So. The boy was to be trained, Obi-Wan was to undergo the trials, and the Sith was to be…redeemed? Reclaimed?

Either way, they were now a part of a package deal.

Where this deal would take them, Windu didn’t know, but he could only hope that it was brighter than it had been.

* * *

Anakin stood between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, once again staring at the entrance to the Council chambers and about to stare into his future. 

This time, however, the cold, the fear that had so bothered him when he first stood before this door, had faded. Instead, Anakin felt…calm. The feeling before, the sheer frantic desperation of getting to the Slave had faded completely, and instead, Anakin felt at peace. Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder as the door swung open, and the three of them entered. Master Yoda and the one to his left still stared at them from their position at the front, and Anakin found himself looking around, realizing that two of their number had left. One of them had looked like the Slave that had been kneeling, minus the distinct coloration, so he wondered if they were watching over the prisoner.

Anakin supposed it made sense.

Anakin bowed with the other two, before straightening.

The pause was broken when Obi-Wan was gestured forward.

“The trials, you are ready to take, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan bowed low, and Anakin could feel little bubbles in the Force, rising around him, shimmering and dancing.

He thought it might be happiness.

Obi-Wan seemed to breathe the bubbles to him, before slowly breathing them out, and they faded.

Anakin was amazed, he had never seen that before. What had changed? Was it following the Force as it called to him? Was it the fact that he knew Obi-Wan more? Either way, he could see them as they vanished. He wondered if that was how they could read his own emotions but found himself dismissing it. Anakin was happy for him, even if Obi-Wan couldn’t hold onto the emotion for long.

And then they turned to him, and Anakin took a breath.

“Become a Jedi Knight, would you, if you had to lose your mother?”

Anakin had not been expecting that question.

“I don’t understand, sir,” he said softly. “What would happen to my mom?”

There was a quiet hum.

“Nothing, but you would not be allowed to see her.”

“…Why, sir?” Anakin asked softly, his voice breaking slightly.

There was a pause and then the man who had been about to kill the Slave, the one with the purple lightsaber let out a quiet sigh. “You saw the Sith today,” he said, and it was not a question, but those sharp eyes stared at him for long enough that Anakin gave a nod. “You felt him, the rage and the fear he had.”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded.

“There are other ways that lead to the Dark Side than fear. One of those is the loss of attachments, which we alluded to you before, though perhaps it should have been spoken with more frankness,” the Cerean said softly, drawing his attention. “It was wrong to speak to you as though you have been among our ranks since you were small, and that is part of the problem,” the smile that he gave him was gentle, his brows pinching in a way that might have been sympathetic. “ _You_ are attached to your mother. You have always had her with you, and now that you have walked into a position where you could lose her, you are feeling…?”

Anakin took this in for a moment, thinking about his mother, thinking of what he would do if he actually lost her. What would he do? “I understand, sir,” he said finally. “You fear that there is a higher probability that I would become like the Sith you have imprisoned due to my attachments.”

Yoda gave a quiet chuckle, smiling at him, and Anakin found himself smiling back slightly, recognizing that his word usage had been caught.

“There _is_ danger in this, yes,” the Quermian said simply, his head tilting on its extremely long neck.

“A Slave, you were,” Yoda said softly, and his expression had softened noticeably, Anakin feeling a gentle wave of something like regret and something like apology. “To become a Jedi…true freedom you will not find, not if freedom is doing what you _want_.”

“A Jedi is a conduit to the Force,” the Tholothian said then, and her voice was gentle as she looked at him, her brows lightly pinched. “You followed its will today, Anakin,” she said, and her voice was so soft, “Would you be willing to follow its will in _everything_? Would you be able to trust it to not lead you wrong?”

Anakin was quiet, taking this in, and there was the start of something ugly curling in his gut.

“Would I be able to go back and free the slaves?” Anakin asked softly.

There was a long pause.

“As Jedi our reach is not that broad,” the female human said then, and her voice was soft, and there was something so _sad_ in it, something that reached out and touched his heart, that bled for him. It faded just as quickly, but it had been there, Anakin had felt it. “We are for the Republic, and we protect the Republic and its people, and Slavery is often simply beyond our range. We do not have the numbers, nor the resources to end it, not _truly_.” She took a breath, “however,” she said, and her eyebrows quirked slightly as she looked to the one on her right. Whatever she communicated was not aloud, for Anakin did not hear, but the man bowed his head. “I see no reason why we cannot free your mother.”

Anakin took this in for a moment, and there was something swelling up in his chest, something wonderful and wild, but then it curdled. “Not my friends? Not my _people_?”

There was a soft hum then, and Anakin looked to Yoda once again. “A good question this was,” he smiled.

“A…a test,” Anakin said softly, realization ringing through him. “That was a test.”

“Yes,” came the quiet agreement, “do you understand why it was necessary?”

It tasted bitter on his tongue as he stared at the ones that stared back at him, their expressions so calm. It hurt. “Yes,” he finally said softly, and that hurt more. “You fight for _all_ of the Republic. That’s why my attachment to my mother is dangerous, it might blind me to everyone else. But…but it _didn’t_. Even if my mother was free…Kitster and…and all my other people, all of them…” he trailed off. “It _didn’t_."

“No,” the Thisspiasian agreed, and there was a smile hiding within his beard. “And that is important young one.”

“But you…you can’t free them at _all_?”

There was a long pause. “We can free your mother, and we can free a certain number, but our resources are limited, our _budgets_ are limited. In order to find true freedom, Tatooine must be liberated in a way that the Jedi cannot do openly. It would invite war. But we can plan, we can find other ways to free them, than outright hostility. It will take time, though, Anakin. Would you have the patience for this? Would you trust us?”

Anakin took this in for a moment, thinking, before nodding sharply.

“Thank you, we do,” Yoda said, leaning back into his chair, a smile on his face. “And apologize, we do, for the question and what it did.”

Anakin nodded his head once, taking a breath and breathing it out. “Why do they call you Master?”

“A good question, this is,” and Anakin turned to the female who looked like Yoda, her face pulled into a smile, her brown hair tucked behind her ears. “Something good at, you are? Something you do which no one else can?”

“I’m the only human that can podrace,” Anakin returned immediately.

“Then to learn, to you we would go? A _Master_ at racing pods, would you be?”

Anakin blinked. “You mean ‘Master’ as in someone who has ‘mastered’ their craft.”

“Yes,” the Cerean said with a nod. “It is a term of respect, of honor, recognizing them for their accomplishments and recognizing that we still have room to be taught. There is a certain level of power they have over the other, but it is power that will be shared, will be taught. Do you understand? It is not that any one of us _owns_ another, it is merely recognizing that the one that we are speaking to knows more, that they have knowledge that they can give to us still.”

Anakin felt a rush of realization run through him. “Anyone can obtain the role of Master, and as a Master it is your job to share your knowledge so _they_ can become Master, and so teach the next.”

“Yes,” and the smile he was given from the human woman was warm, “perhaps you would prefer Teacher as a synonym. In the end our roles are much the same. The Council is a bit different, as _we_ do make choices that the other Jedi will follow, but we are elected to our roles, and similarly we can be removed from them. We are not placed upon pedestals that cannot be broken. We do not _own_ anyone in this room.”

Anakin felt something unclench within him, breathing it out easily, and taking another breath shakily. “I understand,” he said finally. “I…” he took another breath, thinking over everything. “This is _my_ choice,” he said finally, quietly, looking at them with wide eyes. “You…you are letting _me_ make the choice.”

“An _informed_ choice, we would make it,” Yoda agreed.

“One where you knew what you were getting into. We want you to understand that you would be giving yourself to a life of _service to others_ , and to understand what this means. That it is not something you are selling yourself into, nor is it something we are forcing you into. It is something that you will choose to do. You will choose to take the steps to become a Jedi, to become someone who lives _for_ the Force and the Republic and the people within it.”

“There is wonderful satisfaction in it, there is wonderful peace to be found, but it is nonetheless service, and it has to be something that _you_ willingly step up towards.”

“The Chosen One you may be, but there is no reason to not let you _choose_ this path.” The man with the purple lightsaber took a breath, staring at him, “I would prefer that you chose this path, or chose _not_ to take this path. I understand that there are those within this room that would prefer you to simply be trained without question, but I do not think that it would be fair to you. I want to give you freedom, Anakin. Freedom to choose, and I do not think that you have that freedom if you are not aware of what you are getting into. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, “I do,” he said, and his voice was firm, his heart swelling in his chest. “I do understand.”

“Understand do you, that the life of a Jedi is service?”

“Willing to serve, would you be?”

Anakin hesitated, closing his eyes. “What is the relationship between a Master and their Apprentice?”

“Your Master would teach you,” the Iktotchi said, his fingers lacing together, “they would be listened to, and respected. You would follow their orders, but what their orders were, how they were given would differ depending on the Jedi. However, one thing needs to be understood, they would also listen to you, _guide_ you. Their role is not to remain in power over you, it is to _teach_ you what they know so you may eventually become Brothers and Sisters in the Force. Their orders would be to _direct_ you, not control you, so you may eventually find your own wisdom and your own path. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Anakin agreed softly. “It’s…it’s about respect, but it’s not about domination.”

“ _Yes_ ,” came the agreement from the Tholothian, and she smiled at him. “Our order is meant to protect, to guide, and to help. That includes the ones under our roof, under our tutelage. In choosing to become a Jedi you would also be protecting, guiding, and helping. It _is_ service.”

“But it’s service that I choose, that I…that I would _want_ to give.”

“ _Would_ you want to give it?”

“Would you want to swear yourself to the following of this order?”

“You also must understand that you will be at a disadvantage. Chosen One or not, your upbringing has been very different to every other Youngling within these walls. This is not a bad thing, to be clear, we do not doubt that your mother did all that she could for you, that she _loved_ you, but your upbringing will still have been very different, some of our ways will be strange, and there is a likelihood that the other Younglings will not understand.”

“It may be isolating in ways you are not prepared for, but we will do our best to help.”

“This is for _you_ to decide, Anakin. If you would prefer to think upon this…” there was a pause, “I understood that you have dreamed of becoming a Jedi, but dreams are often unable to reflect the true reality of a situation. Do you see how your dreams differ?”

“I do, sir,” Anakin replied softly, his head swirling with thoughts. “I…” he took a breath. “I _want_ to help people. I want to protect and help and teach. I have always wanted to help, sir, and I…” he hesitated.

“There are other ways to do this than become a Jedi. I am not saying this to discourage you, I want you to understand this. We have decided that we would teach you, that you would be allowed to become a Jedi, but we wish to make sure that you understand what this means. You have passed the test, Anakin, I want you to understand this. If you choose some other destiny, some other purpose, it is a choice in every way that matters, for you had the choice. Our Order is open to you, as are the other paths you may choose to walk. We will help you start down them. You would not be returned to Tatooine a failure. If you decide not to accept, we will find a way to free your mother and get you both enough credits to make your own life elsewhere. Either way we _will_ free your mother. Do not let the fear for her wellbeing control your decision, let it be alleviated.”

Anakin felt the balloon in his chest swell, something hopeful and beautiful and bright. He closed his eyes, trying to push past his roaring feelings to figure out what he thought, what he _wanted_.

“Time, you have, to decide,” Yoda said softly. “A decision now, you need not make. Take time. _Think_.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin returned automatically.

“Ah,” Yoda said, holding a finger up to him, “Teacher, you may call me.”

Anakin thought he was going to cry, and he bowed his head, too thankful to find the words.

“Take him, Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda said, looking to him, and Anakin felt the familiar rise in his chest, realizing the respect that was in the words, awe filling him at the realization that Yoda, the highest in the Council, referred to Qui-Gon as ‘Master.’ “Guide his thoughts, but do not order him. Know we do, your position on his destiny, but it is _his_ choice we would hear.”

“Yes, Master,” Qui-Gon returned, bowing low, and looked to Obi-Wan and Anakin himself. “When will the Trials be held?”

“Three days we will grant you,” the brown-haired Teacher said, and her smile was warm. “This long _you_ may take to decide, or sooner, or later, think well, Skywalker,” she said, and her eyes were warm when they focused on Anakin’s. He bowed, and they turned, leaving the Council.

Anakin walked out with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, taking a breath that tasted more of freedom than he had ever known.

* * *

Maul woke up in a cell.

Maul had been waking up in cells his entire life, so this was nothing new. The only difference was the _type_ of cell he would wake up in, so with this in mind, Maul carefully sat up, and the first thing he realized was he was on a bed. Not just any bed, but a bed with a pillow, and a blanket at that. He sat up slowly, looking at it, and then turned his attention out. The ray shield was something he had expected, as were the cameras he could see pointing in at him. The chair, the bound flimsiplast, the dresser, and the _plant_ was not.

Maul stood up carefully, feeling the blankets fall to the ground and there was that idle disbelief at the fact that they had _tucked him in_.

The last thing he could properly register was the collar around his neck felt different to the one that he had been placed in before, and then he heard a quiet, “Ah, you are awake.”

Maul’s attention turned to the Kel Dor and the Zabrak that were both waiting outside of his cell. His lip curled into a reflexive sneer and he walked closer to the ray shield. Idly, Maul found himself looking the two of them over and thinking of the ways that he could kill them.

The Kel Dor’s breathing mask was an obvious weakness, tear that off and he’d suffocate in the oxygen-rich atmosphere. The Zabrak did not have as many _obvious_ weaknesses, but nonetheless Maul would not have any trouble debilitating him. Strike the nerve bundle under the arm, duck in, elbow to back of neck…

“I do not suppose you are hungry?” the Zabrak asked, and Maul’s train of thought momentarily skipped.

What?

“We recognize that you have been without food for at least two days, considering how long it took them to take you from Naboo for Coruscant and how long it took for you to stand trial,” the Kel Dor said. “So, we have actually taken the liberty of bringing you something to eat.”

So, saying, the Zabrak brought a bowl over towards the ray shield. There was a platform no more than thirty centimeters wide jutting out of the wall about waist height, with a metal grid in a square above it. Before he put the bowl on the platform and slid it through, the Zabrak took the spoon and brought it to his lips, blowing to cool it before taking a bite. Maul watched as he swallowed, before putting it onto the platform and after pressing the button to deactivate the ray shield within that small space, shoved it through, before closing it once again.

Maul stared at the bowl for a moment and finally walked towards it. There were two ways he could handle this, he supposed. He could dump the bowl and show his disdain for them, or he could take it, nourish himself and, more importantly, nourish their compassion.

Compassion was a _weakness_ , and it was one that he was very willing to exploit.

Maul picked the bowl up and carefully took a bite, finding it rich in protein and some form of root vegetable that, judging by the fact that his fellow Zabrak had been able to eat it, would likely be palatable to his own carnivorous appetite.

“Good!” the Kel Dor said with what may have been a smile. Maul did not say anything. “My name is Master Plo Koon. This is Master Eeth Koth.”

Maul did not care.

“May we have your name?” the Zabrak asked.

Maul said nothing.

There was a pause as the two of them looked at him, before the Kel Dor nodded his head once.

“You will be receiving food three times a day,” the Kel Dor said. “You may request datapads that contain history of the Jedi and the Sith, and other light reading if you would prefer. For now, you will be unable to access the holonet, and you will not be allowed to contact anyone outside these walls. Eventually, provided you display good enough behavior, you may be escorted to certain levels of the Temple. You will always be guarded, and the cameras will always be filming. There are also censors within your cell that will alert us should anything be tampered with. There is a refresher within your cell that you can utilize, and we have provided a few changes of clothes. Unfortunately, we did not have any black, but this can be changed, I am sure.”

Maul blinked.

The Kel Dor gave another one of his odd smiles.

“You have been seen to by a medical droid to correct the damage that was done,” the Zabrak frowned. “The collar has also been changed. You will not be able to tap into the Force at all. Any attempts will be flowed from you, instead of the original collar which was a lot less… _subtle_.” The Zabrak’s frown deepened. “I also want you to know that we know that you are juvenile,” he said finally.

Maul sneered.

The Zabrak gave a slight grin. “You will be taken care of,” he said, “whether you like it or not at this point. You do not need to worry about your status as Sith, it will not sway our decision. The Council has deemed that they will rehabilitate, at least for now. I would eventually recommend talking. If nothing else, the conversation may do you good. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call, you will be heard and answered.”

With that, the two of them walked out of sight, leaving Maul alone.

He finished his soup, placing it on the platform and sliding it close to the shield to be collected later, and moved to the middle of the room. After a brief hesitation he fell into the opening form of Teräs Käsi.

They would know what he still meant to do.

* * *

Obi-Wan was buzzing internally. Three days and he would be able to take his trials. And then there was the matter of Anakin. The small nine-year-old had been unusually silent as they took him to the accommodation sector with its dormitories and rooms, and really there was little wonder.

Obi-Wan hadn’t even thought of how little Anakin would know, not really, not until he had heard Anakin ask him what a Sith was. He had promised himself that he would discuss with Anakin what it meant to be a Jedi later, should the Council offer him a position. He had not expected that the Council would have done his job for him, but he was appreciative.

It meant that there was less for him to explain, though he figured that he would need to explain some things. He would offer for Anakin to stay with him in his room, because while they could offer a Master’s perspective, and had distance between their role as Padawan… Obi-Wan still was one, technically, even though his Trials had a date set.

Qui-Gon paused before the hallway to his rooms, turning to look at Anakin, but Obi-Wan took a step forward, giving his Master a look that made him blink, before a smile curled his lips.

“Anakin,” he said, drawing the young boy’s attention. “Obi-Wan has offered to take you to his quarters to stay with him. Would that be acceptable?”

“Oh!” Anakin hesitated, before turning to look at Obi-Wan with a smile, “yes, please! That’d be wizard!”

Obi-Wan smiled at him, “Good,” he said, “you’ll like the Dorms, I think. Would you like a tour now, or would you prefer to get settled?”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, considering, and then looked to Obi-Wan with a slightly pinched brow, “With you,” he said simply.

“Settled, then,” Obi-Wan said decisively, and led Anakin deeper into the accommodation wing, taking the lift for the Padawan dorms and his room. It was quiet at this hour, late in the night, and so it was easy for them to come to Obi-Wan’s room without being caught by anyone else. While Obi-Wan would not mind seeing some of his friends, he was rather grateful. Anakin needed time to think and to decompress, introducing him to more people might be more pressure than he needed.

Obi-Wan found a Droid, quietly asking it for garments for a Youngling, as well as an extra bedroll, indicating Anakin. The Droid beeped, taking Anakin’s measurements with a scan, and rolled off.

That done, Obi-Wan entered his rooms and walked over to the meditation mat, sitting down cross legged and patting it before him. Anakin walked over and sat down on his knees, looking around himself with wide eyes.

“It’s not much,” Obi-Wan said, looking around at the standard dorms which held little more than a desk, a chair, and a bedroll in the corner. There was a chest for clothes, but that was it. Compared to Anakin’s room which had been a mess of parts and personality it was almost barren.

“It’s nice,” Anakin rejoined easily, smiling at him. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“Of course, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a small frown. “I wasn’t about to abandon you. I will take you to the refresher before we go to bed, that way you know where it is, though you can wake me if you need help finding it again. The Temple is big, and you would not be the first to get lost on the way.”

“Thank you,” Anakin grinned. “Will…will I need to bring my own things?”

“No,” he returned. “They are communal, everything that you could require is there, including a toothbrush, comb, and wash set that will be assigned to you as soon as you enter. Once it is given to you, you will need to keep track of it, but if you wind up losing something it is no hassle to replace it.”

Anakin nodded, accepting this with a smile.

Obi-Wan took a breath, considering. “Anakin, just…” he paused. “If you have any questions for me, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Anakin blinked, his eyes widening as though suddenly realizing, “You’re an Apprentice,” he said softly.

“I am,” Obi-Wan returned with a smile.

“You’re _Qui-Gon’s_ Padawan.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan’s smile got bigger.

Anakin’s expression shifted through many emotions, before finally settling on wide-eyed wonder, shifting to be properly cross-legged. “What…what’s it like to be an Apprentice?”

Obi-Wan paused for a moment, thinking. “One thing you have to remember is you will go, and you will do what your Master wants you to. There’s always a reason behind it, of course, but orders are to be followed. The older you get the more you get to argue against these orders, but when you are young the most you can do is question. This is not a bad thing, necessarily, because it can lead to further understanding, and the orders are meant to help you learn.”

“So, I am expected to follow commands,” Anakin frowned.

“Would you follow what your mother told you? For instance, if she wanted you to…set the table?” Obi-Wan hedged with the example, not entirely certain what sort of relationship they would have had, whether Anakin was meant to do chores at home. _He_ had certainly been tasked with such a thing when Obi-Wan worked in the Refectory for a spell.

“Yes,” Anakin agreed with a nod, which brought a smile to Obi-Wan’s face.

“Think of the orders as given with that sort of… _care_ behind them,” Obi-Wan explained after a long pause. “They are not done to belittle or subject you, they are given because they are something you should do for some _reason_. For instance, I once was required to record several prophesies in the Jedi Archives. I did not appreciate it at the time, but… I learned a lot, and eventually it led to a strengthening in my bond with my Master. Do you understand?”

“I think I do,” Anakin frowned. “Will he make me do that?”

“I do not know,” Obi-Wan replied, shaking his head. “That is up to him. But almost every Padawan and Master has a different relationship. Even with the same Master, the Padawans are different and so different tasks are required. They are usually tailored to the Padawan, because we all have different strengths.”

“I see,” Anakin frowned. “Did…did you like being Apprenticed to Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “I did, sometimes,” he agreed. “Sometimes I did not. He…Qui-Gon keeps much to his chest. You learn how to read what he will not say, though he got better later. My…my Apprenticeship was not…regular.”

“No?” Anakin asked.

“They almost didn’t choose me as a Padawan,” Obi-Wan admitted quietly.

“Why wouldn’t they have chosen _you_?” Anakin asked, his eyes wide, and there was genuine baffled anger in the Force. Obi-Wan had to fight not to smile. “You’re obviously going to be a wonderful Jedi!”

Obi-Wan lost the fight to his smile, his eyes crinkling with it. “I appreciate that, Anakin, thank you.”

“It’s true!” Anakin added, frowning as though he was doubting it.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan assured, taking a breath. “I was…almost assigned to the AgriCorps, which…would have meant I would not have been made into a Padawan or a Knight. Padawans must be _chosen_ , and they almost did not choose me. You do not have that worry, but I do want to point out that there are even roles within the Temple that are good and will lead you to be able to help people, if this is truly what you want.”

“I see,” Anakin nodded, looking at him with something like anticipation, waiting.

Obi-Wan hesitated. “I think what made them hard-pressed to choose me was how much I _wanted_ to be Chosen. They could sense that in me and decided that it meant that I was not worthy, because I was too prideful to go into the AgriCorps, even though now I recognize its importance, do you understand?”

“I do,” Anakin nodded. “Are you _trained_ to be a member of AgriCorps?”

“Typically, Younglings are trained to be Jedi,” Obi-Wan denied.

“Then why would you have wanted to be a part of AgriCorps?” Anakin asked, blinking. “That seems unfair.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him, “But Anakin, this is where you’re going to have to learn, Jedi are meant to not get attached to things, including a Role. I was almost blinded to the importance of the AgriCorps due to how much I wished to be a Knight, do you understand? They are important and they serve a role, but because I was so focused on the position that I wanted I could not see that there was worth in what I would have been assigned into.”

Anakin took this in for a long moment, before finally nodding, “I understand. The attachment to the position blinded you to the bigger picture.”

“Yes, exactly,” Obi-Wan’s smile widened. “That’s why attachment tends to be forbidden. It is _hard_ to be attached to something and let it go when you need to, sometimes too hard, and it can be painful to not only to yourself, but also what you’re trying to hold onto.”

Anakin nodded slowly. “How…how can it hurt the thing that you’re holding onto?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan hesitated. “What if they do not wish to hold onto you? What if you’re holding onto something that prefers to be free, or is not _meant_ to be held?”

“I see,” Anakin said softly.

“You…” Obi-Wan took a breath, “you can love, Anakin, and you can care. A Jedi is encouraged to do both, you cannot want to help people without having a lot of both, but it needs to be unselfish, about _their_ needs and not your own.”

“Is it…” Anakin took a breath, looking at him quietly, “is it _lonely_?”

Obi-Wan blinked, admittedly a bit surprised by the question, before he finally smiled. “No,” he said finally. “The Jedi are your family, and your friends, and while we do not permit romantic attachments because of the sheer number of complications that arise from them, I cannot say that I have been lonely.”

“What kind of complications arise from romantic attachments?”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes heavily, which caused Anakin to giggle, “outside of the fact that you tie yourself to another being, and should you have children you have several _other_ attachments that spring out of that, and that there is a preacclimation for _several_ species to mate for life that leads to a bond so strong that they will ultimately sacrifice _worlds_ in order to keep them safe… If they cannot hold that attachment, how can you? There is a matter of safety, equality, and simply the fact that if you have children you have to then take care of them, and then if _they_ have children, you get attached to _them_ , and it is an unending _cycle_ of attachment.”

Anakin laughed aloud at the spin he gave his words, the way he waved a hand, and Obi-Wan had to pull back a smile.

“What if you could let them go if you needed to?” Anakin asked. “Would…would it be allowed?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, “Could you promise that you could, Anakin? Would you be certain with all that you had in you that if you needed to you would let go?”

The silence stretched long between them, and Obi-Wan let it settle. The Droid came back with the required articles of clothing, and Obi-Wan took the standard-issue nightwear and gave it to Anakin with a smile. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get cleaned up and change.”

Anakin nodded, waiting as Obi-Wan got his own change of clothes and his toothbrush and wash things, before leading the way to the Refresher, having Anakin repeat the directions out loud as he followed him. When they got there, Obi-Wan got Anakin’s own toothbrush and other items, Anakin taking them with wide eyes. He wondered if it was because they were clean, because they were new, and the thought brought something sour into his gut that he had to breathe out.

Obi-Wan took him to the sonics, showing the individual stalls and how they worked, before allowing Anakin to take one of the stalls and start cleaning himself. Obi-Wan does the same in his own before finally changing into his nightwear, putting the clothes in a bin that will be washed and eventually returned to him. He made sure to put Anakin’s clothes into the same. Clean and dressed in standard issue nightwear, Anakin looked every bit the Initiate.

He was every bit not, and it was not his fault, but it was nonetheless true. Obi-Wan considered his own thoughts on the boy that he had had at first, the ones where he had called the small boy a ‘pathetic lifeform’ in his own ignorance. He had been wrong, and he knew that, and had recognized that quickly, but Obi-Wan found that he had never regretted them more than now, partially because he wondered how many Younglings would look at the small boy and think the same.

He breathed the worries in, let them settle for a moment, and then breathed them out.

They cleaned their teeth, and then picked up their things to take back to the room.

Obi-Wan made Anakin lead them this time, once again repeating the ritual of calling out the directions that they turned.

They made it without difficulty, and Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin, who beamed in return.

So eager to please… Obi-Wan had a moment to think about that in the midst of the Jedi… Of the fact that Anakin would be allowed to call Master Yoda Teacher, and wondered if the others would consider it favoritism. That ugly thing was back in his gut and he breathed it out, harder this time. They entered the room once again, and Anakin walked over to his bedroll, spreading it out and sliding within its warmth, looking over to Obi-Wan, who realized he had not moved from the door.

“Anakin,” he said, softly, and walked forward, sitting down before Anakin once again. Blue eyes met his, their focus intense. “I…I do not wish to discourage you. I do believe…I believe that Qui-Gon is right. I have been near you, I do know that you are strong, and I _do_ believe that you are going to somehow bring balance. But…” Obi-Wan hesitated. “I think that the Jedi way is good, and that it is wonderful, and it is satisfying, and fulfilling…but I do think that it is _hard_. It is hard to people that are trained in it from _birth_ , Anakin. You will be at a disadvantage, and this needs to be something you realize. I want you to understand that it will not be easy. They may call you Chosen One, _I_ may call you Chosen One, but think of how many questions you are asking, how little you actually _know_. And this is not a bad thing! It means you get to ask questions and that you learn, and learning is wonderful, Anakin. But it means that even if you are strong in the Force, even if you can hear it calling you, there are some things that will be beyond you at first. _This needs to be okay_.”

Anakin nodded, his eyes wide, and Obi-Wan’s brows pinched together.

“Anakin, I want you to really think about that…you…” he took a breath, trying to think of the words. “You are _unusually_ gifted. This does not mean that you will be perfect. This does not mean that everyone will accept you. The Council was right when they said they likely will not _understand_ you, but you also will be hard-pressed to understand some of _them_.”

Anakin looked down, his eyes closing, taking this in.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said again, softly, and those blue eyes finally opened, looking up at him, making eye contact, “I also want you to understand that if you decide to do it, if you decide to push through, if you decide to become a Jedi… _I **do** think you can do it_. I think you would become a truly powerful and wonderful Jedi, and I believe you may in fact free those Slaves, that you may do so many other things. And I also want you to know that you can _always_ come to me. If you do become Apprenticed to Qui-Gon, through Jedi Lineage you would be my Brother, and I would always be open to you, even if I were to pass my trials.”

“You’ll pass your trials,” Anakin said, and his voice was firm. There was a light in his eyes, starting dim, but beginning to brighten. “You really think I could do it?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, “I _know_ you can, and I think you would be great, but I want you to _think_. Can you do that for me, Anakin?”

Anakin nodded slowly, taking this in, before slowly shifting to lie down in his bedroll. Obi-Wan went to his own, slowly sliding in and beginning the process of winding down for sleep, flicking a hand at the light and turning it off.

“Do you…” Anakin said softly, startling him, and Obi-Wan looked over to the little form in the darkness, “do you think that the Slave is okay?”

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, felt through the Force for a disturbance, for a hint of something wrong. “I think he’s fine. We have a prison, an old one, for Sith that the Jedi capture. It has not been in use for millennia, but it has been cleaned and refurbished periodically as well as the rest of the Temple. He’ll be within it, I’m certain, and he’ll be fine.”

There was another quiet pause, longer, this time, but Obi-Wan could sense the tension in the room, and finally, quietly…

“I can’t, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said softly, drawing his attention, the words soft and quiet in the dark, and Obi-Wan’s heart momentarily clenched. “I can’t promise that if I gained something like that, I could let it go.”

Obi-Wan took a breath, feeling his heart swell, and quietly, softly, “That’s okay, Anakin. I don’t think I could either.”

The warmth that bubbled up in the Force was open and soft and grateful.

It remained that way until they fall asleep. 


	3. Silence and Solace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~! I have returned LOL Didn't take as much time so go me. This chapter is a lot of set-up and possibilities, opening shit up for the future. One of the things I liked a lot from the movies was while it was Qui-Gon's deal that allowed Anakin to be freed, in the end it was Anakin's skills that won his own freedom. This is pretty important to me so there will be attempts to continually grant agency to these characters that otherwise would not have any. I am creating my own version of Tatooine Slave Culture for a number of reasons up to and including the fact that this kind of creativity is what I live for, so there will be hints and various other things pointing towards what I create as the story goes on. And, of course, there's the fact that this kind of agency is important and needs to be introduced and cultivated. I refuse bluntly to ignore them. We aren't quite trusting everyone with everything yet, basically, but we are learning. Characters will be added to the tags as they show up, but I think it's a safe bet to say that we will be seeing both Padmé Amidala and Shmi Skywalker very shortly so I shall be adding them to the tags. Watto too, I suppose, though I don't know how much time will be spent with him. 
> 
> If anyone wants to ask about shit I have a tumblr and you can find me at https://mercurydancer.tumblr.com/ so yeah. Um. 
> 
> Warnings: still nothing really. 
> 
> References: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Wupiupi/Legends this is the main currency on Tatooine. Fancy shit LOL. Anywaaaay~~ 
> 
> Enjoy

Anakin woke up in the middle of the night shivering. His teeth rattled in his skull and for a moment he lay there, not sure what was happening, and then it all came rushing back.

Anakin was sleeping in Obi-Wan’s quarters, on Coruscant. The desert was cold at night, there was truth to this, but it was nowhere near the Jedi Temple’s sterile quiet cold. There had always been something moving, something happening. Obi-Wan’s room was quiet and it was also still.

For a moment Anakin lay there, trying to force himself to go back to sleep, curl deeper into the blankets and just ignore the cold and the quiet, but the longer he did so the more he seemed to attempt to ignore it, the quieter it seemed to get. Obi-Wan had told him that he could come to him, hadn’t he? With this thought in mind Anakin looked over to the older boy and slowly, carefully reached over for him. Obi-Wan was awake before Anakin touched him.

Obi-Wan shot up, looking around, before immediately focusing on Anakin. “Anakin?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep, “what is it? Are you well?”

Anakin hesitated, taking a breath, before finally, quietly, “Obi-Wan…it’s cold.”

“It’s…” Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, before he gave a quiet, “ _oh_ …” Obi-Wan flicked his wrist towards the lights and they turned on partially, slowly, so as to not hurt their eyes. Obi-Wan still squinted at him, his hair removed from its small ponytail and flattened awkwardly on the back of his head when he turned to look around the room for something that he could use as a blanket, though the brad had stayed in. After a moment of searching Obi-Wan made a bright sound of realization, and called his robe over to his grasp, before spreading it over Anakin. In his half-awake state it covered Anakin’s head completely, but Anakin could not deny that it immediately warmed him, in gesture as much as anything.

Anakin pulled the robe down to smile at him, only to see Obi-Wan still looking at him in that half-asleep way that suggested he was still trying to solve the problem. After another moment the boy scooted closer, tucking the robe tight around him and his bedroll before plopping down next to him, pressing close. The immediate warmth against his side made Anakin immediately snuggle up to it.

“Better?” Obi-Wan slurred, and Anakin nodded. The Padawan gave a brief smushed sort of smile, and then laid back down fully, before flicking a wrist at the light once again, plunging them back into darkness.

Anakin lay there pressing against the boy that had called himself a potential brother and thought of Kitster, thought of his mother, and thought of Tatooine.

And then he thought of the kindness of a half-asleep older boy that had given him the robe that weighed down on him, and the warmth that pressed against him. He fell asleep to a scent that didn’t remind him of the desert, but he thought it may still remind him of home, and the sound of Obi-Wan breathing next to him.

It was enough.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke up with a rough groan and went to stretch, only to realize that he couldn’t. He blinked, looking down to see Anakin who was covered in his robe and had latched himself onto him during the night, pressing close. For a moment Obi-Wan was unbearably confused, until he remembered waking up in the middle of the night because of a sudden feeling of need.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember, only to realize that Anakin had been cold. He had grabbed his robe, and upon realizing that he had nothing else to cover the small boy in, his first reflex had been to offer his own body heat. Obi-Wan found himself sighing at his half-asleep brain’s problem solving, before carefully working a hand free to pet through Anakin’s hair.

“Ani,” he said softly, “Ani, wake up.”

Anakin snuffled into his chest, before finally seeming to come awake. He pulled away immediately, turning beet red. Obi-Wan had to laugh.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We both apparently had a similar idea.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said, smiling ruefully. “I…slept well.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan grinned, “that’s important at least.” He stood up then, stretching. “Would you like to join me for some stretches?”

“Sure!” Anakin said, standing up. He looked up at Obi-Wan for guidance and Obi-Wan grinned before falling into the first pose of a stretch routine he had used for years. Anakin followed him, taking instruction well, letting Obi-Wan shift his form and his weight so he would get the most out of it. It was good. Obi-Wan had no doubt that Anakin - _should_ he agree to learn how to be a Jedi - would be given much tutelage in his forms and stances. It was good that he was willing to learn and seemed more interested in getting things right than embarrassed he was getting things wrong.

It would help him, because Obi-Wan felt that he would get a lot of things wrong.

Anakin _needed_ for that to be okay. He needed to be strong enough in himself that he would be alright with the mistakes he would make and would cling to his successes. Because Obi-Wan knew he would succeed, he’d work hard and he’d make it, he’d be a Jedi – if that was what he decided he wanted to do. It would just take _time_.

Obi-Wan guided Anakin through the stretches and then gathered their change of clothes. The droids had brought Anakin small garbs for a Jedi youngling while they cleaned his own, and Anakin stared at them in bafflement. Obi-Wan grinned, showing him how the layers worked, placing them in order and then handing them off to Anakin, who beamed at him.

They would change and then they would meet Qui-Gon for breakfast. He had no doubt that his Master would want to talk to them both.

* * *

Qui-Gon was waiting in the refectory for his soon-to-be-graduated Apprentice, and his potential new Apprentice. Qui-Gon had been thinking long into the night about what would happen if Anakin decided to not become a Jedi and had eventually decided that it was the Living Force that would ultimately decide what would happen. Qui-Gon would trust in this, but he would open himself up to answer whatever question the boy may ask.

Qui-Gon had every faith in Obi-Wan and had no doubt that he had already answered several questions that Anakin might have had. His Apprentice had been wise in his decision to offer the boy the opportunity to ask him questions. It would give Anakin a clearer understanding of what would happen and what it was like should he decide to become a Jedi.

_Should_ he decide.

He caught sight of them coming up to him, Anakin wearing the traditional garb of a Jedi Initiate. Anakin beamed when he saw him, coming up to him quickly. The emotion swirling from him was contented, happy, and Qui-Gon smiled down at him, putting a hand on his head when he got close enough, ruffling his hair and causing Anakin to let out a huff, pulling away. The amusement rippling through him and the smile was enough to let him know it had not been taken offence to.

“Good morning,” Qui-Gon said, nodding to them both. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Yes please,” Anakin chirped, delight bubbling in his gaze. Qui-Gon smiled.

Breakfast was a mostly unremarkable affair, the only thing setting Qui-Gon’s teeth on edge the sight of the Younglings and Initiates staring at Anakin. They knew that he was new, knew that they had not seen him before, and were wondering.

It was something Qui-Gon hadn’t initially thought to worry about, but now that he saw it… Qui-Gon gave it to the Force, and turned his attention to Anakin, who hadn’t seemed to notice, or if he had was doing a remarkable job at ignoring it.

Eventually they finished, giving their trays off to the droids to clean and left.

Anakin was staring around himself with wide eyes, a kind of amazed awe visible within him. Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan, who looked from Anakin to him and smirked.

“Would you like a tour?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Yes, please!” Anakin called out. “It’s so _big_ , do you know where all of it goes?”

Qui-Gon smiled, “I don’t know if there’s a Jedi alive that does.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, his eyes wide. “Why?”

“The Temple has been in existence for more than four millennia,” Qui-Gon explained. “The Jedi have been building and expanding upon it for about just as long. It grew as the City did.” Qui-Gon smiled as he pulled out a holomap from a pouch on his belt. “It’s why we carry these.”

“ _Wizard_ ,” Anakin breathed.

“Some of us rely upon the Force to guide us, have utilized paths so many times that our signatures call to us, but that is not helpful if you wish to go somewhere you have not been,” Qui-Gon explained. “Which is why a holomap is always a good thing to carry with you.”

“Can you use signatures to follow other people?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon answered with a nod, smiling. “Everyone has a distinct signature in the Force, something that reads as them, which you can utilize to follow them.”

“Is that true with people that can’t utilize the Force at all?”

“It is,” Qui-Gon answered with a nod. “The Force is in all living beings, connecting them together, binding, even if they do not have the ability to utilize it. Though, it is often fainter in the ones that are Force-Null.”

Anakin nodded with a slight frown.

“Would you like to wander?”

Anakin hesitated, frowning. “Can…can we find the Slave?”

Qui-Gon paused for a moment, looking to Obi-Wan.

“He asked about him last night,” Obi-Wan said.

“I am a bit surprised that you did not ask after your mother…” Qui-Gon mused thoughtfully. Anakin colored. “We don’t have a way to receive holocalls, sir,” Anakin said softly, “and Watto wouldn’t let her talk anyway, but…I can see _him_.”

Qui-Gon took this in for a moment, before looking to Obi-Wan, his gaze sharp. Qui-Gon was going to speak to the Council tonight. There needed to be something that could be done about this, sooner rather than later. Qui-Gon had little doubt that Anakin’s mother would always remain something in the background, always, so long as she remained enslaved and he remained free, and he had no desire to allow it to fester. If she was free, she could help her son with his choice.

If that meant that Shmi Skywalker brought the Chosen One back into her arms, then…Qui-Gon would trust in the Force.

“We can see him,” Qui-Gon said instead of anything else, looking to Anakin. “From what I understand he has not talked to anyone, though you certainly got him to talk the last time.”

“I’ll do my best!”

“If you cannot, Anakin, do not feel as though you have failed,” Qui-Gon cautioned. “He is no longer under the influence of the drugs that kept him pliable, so it is likely he shall be very different to the last time you saw him.”

Anakin nodded.

That decided, Qui-Gon took them the long way through the Temple, telling Anakin what he was seeing as they headed towards the Sith Containment Chambers.

* * *

Maul sat in the middle of his cell, trying to meditate.

They’d brought him breakfast, which he had eaten, the Zabrak and some human female coming to watch him this time, attempting to get him to talk. He had a feeling that the Zabrak was there in order to consistently show him that the food was edible. The human wouldn’t have been able to stomach the raw meats that they had brought him, though she was able to nibble on some of the fruits and take a sip of the drink they had brought him, but the Zabrak was able to take a bite, show him that it was safe.

There had been no blood in the meat, which had been expected, but there was still that bit of disappointment.

Maul focused on his frustration, his hatred and disgust with the _Jedi_ that had spent the better part of the morning trying to get him to talk. He had nothing to say to them, and he never would. Weak and pathetic as they were…

The guards were easier to deal with. They didn’t have any desire to talk to him, which suited him just fine. Just now they were outside of his cell on either side, waiting, their parodies of saberstaffs held at attention, ready.

The grip was so long it was practically better suited for a staff than a _saber_ staff, and he wondered how long the blades would be. Would they compensate for the longer grip with equally long blades, or would they sacrifice lethality for look?

Maul had stared at their ceremonial robes, their masks, and had to conclude that it would absolutely have been a sacrifice of lethality.

What was the _point_?

Which brought him back to meditation and how useless it was to him. Maul’s connection to the Force was nonexistent and so, unable to feed all of his feelings into the Force, unable to bring it to a fever pitch, they almost hovered there, inert, _useless_. 

Maul was filled with a growing and pointedly useless frustration.

And then he heard a voice. A voice that he recognized, and Maul’s eyes flashed open to see the little brat that had claimed kindred with him, and Maul’s lips curled into a sneer. The little brat would never be akin to him.

“Hello!”

Maul blinked, the sneer dying on his lips. The boy almost… Maul didn’t know the word. Couldn’t apply it to what he was seeing, the way that he walked right up to the ray shield and looked at him.

“Oh, were you meditating? I’m sorry, I know that’s important, I can wait.”

“He hasn’t been meditating,” one of the guards dismissed.

Maul hated them, but he also was not going to tell them otherwise.

It wasn’t like it had been successful…

“Oh, good then,” the boy sat down before him on the other side of the ray shield, smiling. Maul allowed himself to let go of any attempts to meditate, letting his focus slip away from him.

There was even less point than there had been before.

Maul then turned his attention to the two behind him and felt hatred rise in his gut, a snarl pulling at his lips as he saw the Master and his brat that had led to this farce, baring his fangs.

“Hello to you, too,” the brat said, and Maul allowed his lip to curl more. “That’s actually quite impressive,” he said, sitting down next to the smaller brat. “I’ve never seen Master Koth manage a glare like that, and he’s Zabrak as well. Though I suppose your tattoos make it more…distinctive. And the eyes, too, really.”

Maul said nothing.

“Your tattoos are really cool,” the smaller brat said, and Maul refused to let the confusion he felt be visible on his face. “They _have_ to have hurt, though.” His small face almost seemed to squish in…something, and Maul found his snarl leaving him if only in plain confusion. “Do they go _everywhere_?”

Maul said nothing.

“Are you red with black tattoos or black with red tattoos?” the brat asked, an eyebrow rising. “I must admit I can’t tell.”

Maul said nothing.

“What do you think, Anakin?”

The smaller brat’s eyes widened, before he turned to Maul with what might have been apologetic eyes.

“That doesn’t seem right to guess, Obi-Wan, what if it’s a cultural thing?”

“Oh, you’re quite right, my mistake,” the brat said, and there was something…genuine within the words. “I had not meant offence, merely…” he hesitated, his gaze turning significant as he stared at him, “ _making_ conversation.”

Maul’s chin tilted up, his gaze darkening. Oh. He knew the game. The brat was planning on being deliberately annoying. Baiting him into talking. There was a likelihood that he thought that Maul would be loose lipped when met with annoyance. But Maul no longer had drugs rushing through his system on top of the terrible feeling of being stripped from the Force. Maul could withstand this. He could withstand anything this brat thought he could subject him to.

Particularly if he was worried about _offending_ him.

Maul would not talk. Not to him or to any of the other Jedi that entered here.

They did not know what he had been subjected to. It would take more than this to break him.

And he would be ready when they switched to more, would be ready when they decided they had tired of waiting and were willing to utilize more extensive measures, more _bloody_ measures. Maul would not bend.

Maul knew of what had happened to Darth Revan. Knew of the brainwashing and the breaking that the Jedi had subjected him to, the way they had eventually pulled him to the Light.

Maul was not Revan. Maul would not be swayed.

“Did they heal you?” the smaller brat asked. “You looked like you…what did you do?” he asked, his head tilting, large eyes boring into his. “There was…something behind that scream you did, but I’ve never seen a Jedi do it.”

Maul rolled his eyes even as the brat turned to the smaller brat.

“That’s a Sith technique, Anakin,” the brat explained. “It’s known as a Sith Scream, I believe, so what it is and who invented it is right in the title,” he grinned, and the smaller brat laughed. “From…what _I_ understand it’s meant to build power, a sudden release of emotions all at once, fueling their next attack. Is that correct, Master?”

“I believe the one most qualified to explain the technique is there,” the Master-without-Honor said then, dipping his bearded chin in Maul’s direction. “But from my understanding it is something like that. Do you have any specifics? I am mildly surprised that the collar would have reacted the way it did if it was only a boost. Is there another way that it can be utilized?”

Maul said nothing.

The Master-without-Honor dipped his head in acknowledgement of his silence, before looking at his brat with a slightly apologetic shrug. “I do not know. Perhaps you can pair it with something else.”

Maul said nothing.

“Oh,” the brat said then, “I just realized, I never told you my name, that was very rude of me. Immediately asking you all these questions and not giving you an idea of who you’re talking to. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I’m Anakin Skywalker,” the smaller brat said then, smiling at him widely.

“Qui-Gon Jinn,” the Master-without-Honor said with a much gentler smile. “Would you give us your name?”

“Please,” the smaller brat added, and his expression was almost pleading. “I don’t…I want to know what to call you, so I don’t call you something you won’t like. But I can’t think of what else you _are_.”

Maul said nothing.

But in that moment rage welled up within him, so angry, so violent it nearly consumed him. Who did this brat think he was? Calling him something he was not. He was Sith, he was _Power_. The ones who had made him slave were these Jedi. The ones that captured him behind a ray shield, that collared him like some _pet_.

Maul was no one’s slave and he was no one’s pet.

In that moment Maul decided he didn’t care to hear what else they had to say, and stood, turning his back on them and leaving to the farthest corner of the cell. He dropped to his knees once again, closing his eyes, and tried to focus on the rage.

He would meditate, even if it was worthless.

* * *

Anakin was full of desperate hurt, his fingers balling into fists on his pants as he stared at the Slave that had just turned his back.

He hadn’t expected much else, really, but it still _hurt_. Anakin knew the kind of Slave he was looking at, had seen them when they became too broken to do their jobs, when they were thrown out by their Masters to either be killed or worse. Remembered the times when his mother would bring them in the night, had seen the way that they were coaxed from their knowledge of violence and death slowly but surely, given kindness and love with a strength equal to their violence.

These Slaves that acted as gladiators or warriors, that fought for the amusement of their Masters who sneered at them and laughed and called for more blood even when they were still bleeding.

Anakin had seen some of those fights when he was still with Gardulla, and they had been horrifying, a sick feeling rising in his stomach at the thought.

But Anakin remembered his mother, remembered the words of the other Slaves, the others like him, and knew that the only way to help these broken warriors, these castaway broken men and women, was patience and kindness.

And a lot of soup.

Anakin found himself desperately wondering at the recipe that had been used, the one that his mom had sworn by, and once again found himself with that lurching in his chest at the thought of his mother. She would know the recipe, and he wanted to get it from her, but there was no way for him to contact her. Anakin closed his eyes, bowing his head, and let out a quiet sigh.

“Come on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently, brushing his shoulder, and Anakin nodded, standing up and following the other two out.

Their presence was warm and solid, hemming him in, reminding him that he was still with people that cared.

“Come,” Qui-Gon said then, and Obi-Wan veered to follow his Master.

Anakin thought about it, watching the way Obi-Wan walked alongside him. There was no one in front of the other, no hint that Qui-Gon was the Master in their relationship, outside from the fact that he had listened, and he supposed the braid had to mark him as a learner, but that was physical, that didn’t count as much. Stance and attitude and placement were the true indications of who was Master, and they walked in line. But wasn’t that what Obi-Wan had said? The fact that their orders were meant to be helpful, and all came from a place of granting more power?

Obi-Wan was to be Knighted. He was to become his Master’s _equal_.

Anakin thought of the Slave in the prison and wondered when he would be rendered equal.

They walked in silence through the Temple, heading towards the dormitory area that Anakin remembered from last night, but turning in a different direction. He wondered if these were the Knight’s quarters, and then he had to decide that they were upon seeing the room Qui-Gon entered.

It was bigger than Obi-Wan’s, filled with items that looked like they came from every corner of the galaxy, as well as a small kitchenette. Qui-Gon waved a hand towards it, and Obi-Wan immediately walked over to it.

“Would you like to help him?” Qui-Gon asked, looking to Anakin, and Anakin blinked, before immediately going over.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Making tea,” Obi-Wan answered with a smile, pouring water into a kettle from the small faucet. “Have you ever had it?”

Anakin shook his head, though the concept was familiar, he hadn’t had anything like what was being shown to him. Taking in the dried leaves in their boxes that Obi-Wan indicated, he had to assume it was a bit like the fruits they would boil in water, splitting them and pulping them, but there was a certain expense for that kind of vegetation that they often didn’t have. Obi-Wan handed the kettle to him and Anakin set it down where he indicated, flicking the switch to start it boiling. Obi-Wan brought out a box, showing him the leaves that were inside of it, told him what they were, and helped him scoop out a small measure into three strainers, which he placed in three cups. The kettle clicked as the water finished boiling and Obi-Wan gestured for him to pour the water into them, and he did so, carefully doing his best to not spill a single drop.

When they had finished pouring, he moved them onto a tray Obi-Wan brought over and took them over to where Qui-Gon was sitting patiently, cross-legged on a mat with a small table before him. They moved to sit on the other side of them, and Anakin found himself relaxing as the tea was placed before them, a cup offered to each of them.

“Wait for it to brew,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, before Anakin could blow on it to cool it and take a sip.

Anakin nodded, but still found himself holding the warmth in his hands, letting it seep into his bones.

“How do you feel?” Qui-Gon asked, and Anakin blinked, surprised, before finding himself turning his attention inward.

“Better, sir,” he said, his voice heavy with shock, his eyes widening at the realization.

“Good,” Qui-Gon said softly, his mouth pulling in a small smile.

“He does this to me all the time,” Obi-Wan said, and there was a smile on his face, and Anakin once again found himself remembering how the orders were meant to help.

He thought he was beginning to understand.

There was a pause as they allowed Anakin to take this in before Qui-Gon looked to Anakin. “I’m going to propose to the Council that I should be sent to free your mother today,” he said.

Anakin nearly dropped the teacup.

“I want you to understand that I will be unlikely to be sent immediately, in fact I most definitely will not be, at least not _today_. Outside of the fact that we must find some way to get the money necessary to purchase her, I will need to get a ship that can take me to Tatooine.”

Anakin stared at him with wide eyes, taking this in.

“If you would like to go with me, I will also petition for this, but the Council will likely be a bit hesitant due to you still considering to be a Jedi. Even if this is the case, I promise that I will let your mother contact you, even if it is not in person. Do you think your mother is likely to leave Tatooine for Coruscant?”

Anakin paused, thinking, his head lowering slowly as he thought, thinking of her words, remembering the way she said her future was in Tatooine, and in that one moment he found himself shaking his head. If his mother had her freedom, she would use it to bring freedom to the others, just like…just like Anakin would eventually bring freedom to his people. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “I think she’d stay…she…there would be so much more that she could do…”

“I agree,” Qui-Gon said finally, softly. “Your mother is a wise and very capable woman.” Anakin found himself smiling. “Anakin, if I am to do this, and you decide to not go with me, would there be something you wish? Something that I could get you?”

“Ask…” Anakin took a breath, “ask my mom about the Liquor of the Sands,” he said. “She’ll know what that means and…ask her specifically for…you said that the Slave’s carnivorous?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon responded with a nod.

“Ask her for that specifically.”

The recipe would be his mother’s presence, her gift something that would free another, and he could still use. She would approve.

“I shall,” Qui-Gon answered with a nod. “Your tea is steeped enough.”

Anakin removed the strainer, shaking the excess liquid from it into the cup and putting it to the side, watching the other two do the same and carefully sipped at it. The flavor was mild, hardly noticeable, but it was warm, and it filled him in a way he didn’t expect.

He wondered if it was the tea or the company.

For a moment he thought of speaking of the runaway trails, of the Slaves that escaped and how the Order could join with helping them.

But that was a secret for another time.

There was a part of him that was not quite ready yet to trust. Not with that. Not yet.

And the fact that the thought ended with ‘yet’ made a small part of him swell with something that might have been hope.

* * *

Qui-Gon stood before the council, his hands folded into his robe as he made his case.

They listened, quietly taking everything in, before finally, quietly, “The Council agrees with you that freeing Shmi Skywalker needs to be done for Anakin Skywalker to focus on learning to be a Jedi. We also agree that to let her remain in bondage would be wrong and against our ethics,” Master Windu said, a finger rubbing his temple as though he had a headache. “You do not need to convince us of this, and you know it. We already talked to Anakin about how we planned to free her.”

Qui-Gon’s mouth quirked slightly and he bowed.

“The problems we now have to solve involves with _what_ ,” Master Mundi said.

“If they will not accept Republic Credits then this really could be a great issue,” Master Koon said, lacing his fingers together. “We do not have much to barter with of value that is potentially of _value_ , and appealing the Senate…”

There was a weighty silence between them. 

“Perhaps…” Qui-Gon started softly, frowning, “Perhaps we could make an appeal to someone else.”

“Who?”

“Queen Amidala.”

“Her world is still recovering from the battle with the Trade Federation. The loss of life…” they trailed off.

“This is true,” Qui-Gon agreed, “but if it is given as a request to free the mother of the boy that saved Naboo… I have little doubt that Queen Amidala will be very willing. I believe she has the means, what she will not have is the men. If I volunteer to do it, it will remove that from being a further burden. She would be able to focus upon her people and I would be able to absolve a debt.”

There was a long pause.

“Ask, you may,” Master Yoda said. “Think on this more, we also shall. Ideas have you, bring them.”

“But Qui-Gon,” Master Windu added quietly, “if we can think of nothing, ask after your Apprentice is Knighted. Give her more time to bring everything together. I do not wish to pressure her.”

“Agreed, Masters,” Qui-Gon said, falling into a bow. “I will tell the boy.”

They dismissed him, and Qui-Gon immediately went to tell Anakin of the news. After comming Obi-Wan he discovered that the two of them had moved to the Jedi Archives. Obi-Wan mumbled something about giving Anakin access to some of their history so he knew more of what they were involved with. Their giving of knowledge, even if it was to a boy that was technically still an outsider, would be accepted if only due to the fact that the Jedi Order still valued knowledge and the sharing of such.

As it was, Qui-Gon walked to the Archives, appraising some of the tapestries and the pottery in ways he had not.

Qui-Gon had had no experience in the acquiring of Slaves before Anakin. He did not know what proper collateral would be, and he supposed that was the main problem.

He would ask Anakin. There was a possibility that they were overlooking the obvious.

Anakin turned to look at him when he found Anakin and Obi-Wan in the archives, the two of them immediately turning their focus entirely to him. “The Council is in agreement. At the moment what we are discussing is finding something to barter. We have Republic Credits and we do not have access to Wupuipi, so our ability to buy her in hard currency is unlikely.” Qui-Gon paused, frowning, “Anakin, would Watto accept a trade? Do you think that the Jedi have something that he would want?”

Anakin blinked at him, wide eyed.

“The Jedi are not used to buying slaves,” Qui-Gon’s voice was calm, even as he saw the way Anakin frowned, a thoughtful look in his gaze. “We do not know what would work, though if we can find enough for a trade within these walls then it will make things easier. If, however, you think that we do not have what would work, I am planning, and the Council has given me permission, to contact Queen Amidala, though I would prefer to give her and her people more time to recover. Do you think your mother would be okay if we waited?”

“Yes,” Anakin said immediately, looking up at him. “I know she will,” Anakin nodded.

“Good,” Qui-Gon sighed. “Your insight will likely be appreciated with the Queen as well, should it come to it. I do not know what Watto will accept.”

Anakin nodded, swallowing, “Will…will I come with you to choose?”

“I believe that a holocall will be utilized,” Qui-Gon denied gently. “But I see no reason for you to not be in contact.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said softly.

“No,” Qui-Gon shook his head, “Thank you. For trusting us and allowing us to do this.”

* * *

Anakin didn’t know what to say.

In his wildest dreams he had never expected for this to happen to him. Anakin had been content with letting them free his mom, for he had little doubt that that was exactly what Qui-Gon would do as soon as Shmi had been ‘bought.’ Anakin had been content with his own status of being freed, his own skills having freed him. To be able to help the Jedi in their quest to free his mom was liberating in a way he did not think they would understand, even if it was just by helping them figure out what to use to buy her.

There was something funny about that, funny about the way Qui-Gon had admitted they didn’t have any experience buying slaves. In a way, although Qui-Gon had brokered the deal, Anakin’s skills had won his own freedom. Now, they were asking Anakin for the ability to grant further freedom to his mother. It caused a bright warmth to flare in his chest, and Anakin had to smile.

“You’re welcome,” he finally said, and Qui-Gon smiled at him.

It was as they began walking through what Anakin had initially considered to be a palace, he began to realize that while there was surprisingly little that would actually be considered useful. The art was all based heavily on Jedi teachings, and what might have been useful turned out most of the time to be simply too big. Or, there was potentially something good that could be melted down, but that became a pain and a half.

Anakin was rather shocked to realize that their vast resources turned out to be more utilitarian than he had expected. Qui-Gon seemed to be one of the few Masters that actually spent his time collecting _stuff_ , and Anakin found himself standing in a Temple that went for literally a kilometer down with next to nothing to show for it.

They had rolled carpets, some of the tapestries that showed their history… A few droids, certainly, and they had been surrendered without fuss as they had several others to take their place, and they were discussing the possibility of giving one of their ships, but… Anakin wondered what sort of price Watto would ask, and he knew that a lot of the market came from selling their objects, and then there was the possibility that they would have to go to another dealer to fence the objects into something useable.

The fear that rose within him at the idea that Watto would not accept a trade was enough to cause him to look to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon looked at him for a long moment, looked to what they had gathered and kneeled to face him. “I will talk to the Queen,” he said softly. “We will free your mother, Anakin. We…” Qui-Gon hesitated. “If I had my way, I would make it so Watto was unable to purchase another. We will need to be careful with what he is given.”

Anakin nodded, and took a breath. He believed that they would find a way to do the right thing. He believed that they would find a way to free his mother.

Anakin hoped dearly that there would not be another to take her place.  
  



	4. Words and Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is Knighted. 
> 
> Maul gives his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone~! Been a bit, sorry about that LOL! With that said, I bring to you all another chapter, as well as a few notes~ Maul's experiences as a child that he references are taken from The Wrath of Darth Maul, as is his understanding of the Jedi and what they do. That book is a massive ouch on every level LOL! What is much less ouch is Dexter Jettster who is fucking amazing and I love him. Rael Aveross comes from the book Master and Apprentice which is fucking Fascinating and absolutely deserves being read through. A lot of the talk about midi-chlorians is influenced by the book Darth Plagueis, which is also fucking fascinating and deserves the read. Obi-Wan's knighting ceremony is pretty much copied exactly from the 2D Clone Wars show just. Changed to Obi-Wan instead of Anakin. It's really cool. Speaking of Anakin, it's very difficult to figure out precisely where Anakin's gaps would be in education. While he was a Slave, it was shown that he was the one minding the shop for Watto, meaning that he's got to at least be able to read to some extent due to the fact that you're likely to have shipping lists and other shit that you have to be able to read and talk to. Similarly he probably has a decent handle on money. Another thing that's also very true is that Anakin went and spent most of his free time either making Protocol Droids and talking/listening to Spacers, as well as building his own fucking podracer. I think it's very safe to say that Anakin is basically a mini-genius, with some very odd and very specific gaps in his knowledge. I'm going to dig into one of these gaps within this chapter. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Reference to child abuse, that is...not recognized as child abuse by the one abused...

Obi-Wan kneeled before the Masters that surrounded him, his head bowed, breathing his excitement out of him with every breath. Anakin had wished him luck today, hugging him tightly before Obi-Wan had left, telling him that he knew that he could do it, and that had been that.

The day before had been spent mostly in meditation, Anakin doing his best to be quiet whenever he entered the room with him and hovering mostly around Qui-Gon. When they had gotten ready for bed, Obi-Wan snapping out of his meditation feeling as centered as he would get, Anakin had told him about his day when he asked. Mostly it had been spent wandering the Temple with Qui-Gon, meeting more Jedi and finally meeting the prisoner once again. He still hadn’t talked.

Either way, Obi-Wan was finally here, facing the room of Masters.

And then, Obi-Wan stood, a wordless instruction to begin passing through him, and fell into the Trials.

He was going to become a Knight.

* * *

Anakin waited within the Archives, kept company by the librarian Madame Jocasta Nu, but he was almost too excited to pay much attention. Madame Nu had not been upset by this – for which he was grateful – recognizing that Anakin had not yet actually started his training. And that was the first thought that really knocked Anakin for a bit of a loop.

He’d thought of it as ‘not yet.’

Anakin had been doing his best to avoid thinking of his future as being exclusively with the Jedi, tried to keep from thinking of it as any sort of permanent thing, tried to avoid really focusing on it at all, and yet… And yet.

Anakin looked around at the archives, taking them in, all of the information that he would never see again, all of the knowledge, the peace, the… Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon. The Council. Madame Nu. All of these people that he had found. All the ones that had proven to be so patient with him. There had been rough patches of course, but once they had explained, once they had talked it out with him, he had understood.

It had been even more illuminating when Qui-Gon had talked to him about Rael Averross, the Knight who Qui-Gon’s own Master, a Dooku, had taken as an Apprentice before Jinn himself. Five years old, Averross had never quite conformed to the Jedi ways, known to be “controversial” but at the same time… Widely respected. Qui-Gon had also told him that in a lot of ways, he had thought that Averross had deliberately sought to make himself as controversial as possible, had _sought_ to be different. He had nonetheless had friends, been someone Qui-Gon had looked up to, and saw as a good friend and brother.

Qui-Gon had also told him what had happened with Averross’ Apprentice, and it was truly one of the only moments where Qui-Gon had felt very clearly that Averross had done the wrong thing.

Nothing, not even a slicer dart, should have been enough to make Averross kill his own Padawan. There was a part of him that rejoiced in hearing the actual disgust in Qui-Gon’s voice at the thought of harming his own Padawan so, and a smaller part of him that feared he would do the same thing as Aveross, due to his own position as too old.

Rael Averross had been five when he had been found. Anakin was four years older than even that.

And then Qui-Gon had looked him in the eye and said quietly, calmly, that Anakin would be trained to the best of all of their abilities, that he did not need to fear following Averross’ footsteps. Anakin was not Averross.

Anakin was not destined to hurt the people closest to him.

Anakin brought his knees to his chest, before lowering his chin to them, frowning thoughtfully. Qui-Gon had spoken of all of the traditions that surrounded the Jedi order, and Anakin had indeed spent time with him just watching as the Jedi went about their business inside the atrium. He had been told that there were multiple jobs that a Jedi would do after they had become Knights, and even of the importance of the AgriCorps, and Anakin found himself listening to all of the positions offered and finding his mind sticking particularly to Sentinels.

Qui-Gon had noticed his interest and smiled at him, telling him that while it was _certainly_ possible, it was also one of the hardest to obtain. This of course didn’t mean that he couldn’t do it, just that he had to understand that even Jedi trained much younger than him also had to work very hard. Quinlan Vos was a Sentinel that Qui-Gon was familiar with, though he was out on a mission, so he could not talk to Anakin about it.

The fact that Qui-Gon had offered to get Anakin in touch with someone to talk specifically about a possible career path had been a balm to his soul. They were working very hard to make sure that Anakin knew what he was getting into.

And Anakin thought, that just maybe… If they freed his mother… Maybe it _was_ something that he would want to get into.

If nothing else, Anakin liked the idea of being Qui-Gon’s Apprentice. The day spent with mostly the two of them had been fascinating, Qui-Gon answering every question that Anakin could possibly think to throw at him, and never once getting upset or angry with him for asking them. Instead, Qui-Gon had always been full of warmth and almost excitement for every question.

Anakin had decided that Qui-Gon _loved_ teaching, and that warmed him dearly.

The day had cumulated with them going to sit before the Slave, Qui-Gon discussing the Force with Anakin before him quietly. Anakin had realized that it was something of a bait, to see if they could get the Slave to respond. Once Obi-Wan had explained what the Sith was outside of just curses spoken by Traders and old Space Pilots, Anakin had understood why this might be the perfect bait. They had very different teachings, after all, there was a distinct possibility that the Slave would say something to contradict, or otherwise express his disdain towards their teachings.

Like Anakin had thought, he had noticed when those burning eyes had fixed on them, something dark within them as he stared. The Slave had then wrinkled his nose and gone back to what Qui-Gon had called a kata, trying to ignore them. Anakin had soon found himself watching the Slave with wide eyes, having never seen another being fight quite like that.

He’d seen martial arts, of course, seen different styles and different moves, but there was something about this one. Anakin had looked to Qui-Gon and nodded towards him, “What is that? What’s the kata from?”

“That’s Teräs Käsi,” Qui-Gon explained. “It’s a martial art created by the Followers of Palawa, who are themselves refugees from Palawa. It is designed to kill Jedi.” Qui-Gon turned his attention to the Slave, his gaze thoughtful, “I would say that he is very good at it.”

Anakin had felt a brief jolt in his chest, turning his attention to the Slave as he fell into another stance. For just a moment, Anakin had thought that he could see a feral grin twisting those lips up, those eyes flashing to his, and then he looked away.

Qui-Gon had returned quietly to speaking about the Force and what it was and how they were all connected, and the Slave had performed a particularly devastating looking move that had gained all of Anakin’s attention temporarily, wondering how he moved his body like that. It took him a second to realize that it seemed to be in retaliation to whatever Qui-Gon was telling him. Anakin idly wondered what _he’d_ been taught about the Force that would cause such a reaction, but there was no way that Anakin could ask.

Could he?

Anakin had looked to Qui-Gon, and turned his gaze to the Slave, and Qui-Gon had sat there with his head tilted slightly, before understanding had spread across his features. Qui-Gon had moved back, and nodded to him, Anakin moving to kneel before the ray shield. The Slave froze in the middle of a high-kick, higher than his own head, and looked to him. The realization that he had been listening to what they were talking about was very obvious then, and he seemed to realize that, his nose wrinkling before he dropped into a low sweep.

“Sir,” Anakin said politely, trying to gain back that forcefully ripped away attention. “Sir, what do you know about the Force? Do…do you think it’s a living thing that connects us?”

The Slave’s lips had curled in a slight twist, but he hadn’t said anything, falling into an open-palmed opening stance with his thumbs tucked towards his palms, his legs apart, ready to snap into motion at any time.

Anakin had frowned slightly, thoughtfully. “Probably not then. What do you think it is?”

The Slave looked to him then fully straightening to his full height, his eyes narrowed, and then tugged at the collar around his neck, a sneer on his lips.

Anakin’s frown had deepened, looking at the collar that he knew blocked the others’ connection to the Force. “If it’s a living thing that supposedly connects _all_ of us, that wells up _inside_ of us, how can it be blocked? How can we be kept from reaching out to it?”

“A good question,” Qui-Gon smiled. Anakin watched as the Slave’s eyes widened slightly, before his expression once again flattened. “I don’t know.” Qui-Gon smiled, and Anakin felt momentarily startled. An adult, a _Master_ , that admitted that they did not know everything? Anakin had never thought he would see the day. “While we know that the midi-chlorians within our cells are both sentient and connect to everything, how they work is often a mystery. We do not know why every living being has midi-chlorians, yet there are some that cannot use the Force, for instance. Even if the count is small, surely, they should be able to cause some change? And yet…to the best of our knowledge and our testing, they cannot. Whatever the reason, we have found a way to block it artificially. Ray shields are also resistant to the Force and we do not know the specific reason to that. Some things just _are_.”

Anakin listened to this for a moment and while he thought it was an explanation that he could swallow, if only due to the fact that it was admitted that Qui-Gon didn’t know specifically. While _he_ could accept this…the Slave seemed disgusted.

Qui-Gon hummed at his expression, the wrinkled nose so exaggerated by those tattoos. “I don’t think you liked that answer. Very well, I shall hazard a guess, but I would like to emphasize that this is a guess.” Qui-Gon folded his hands within his sleeves, something very formal about the gesture. “Midi-chlorians are living things and like all living things there are things that block and repel them. The Force itself is bigger than all of us, _but_ midi-chlorians are living things that live _inside_ of us, that are trapped within our flesh and our blood. Flesh and blood is finite, _we_ are finite. And there are ways to block our flesh from getting in places. Doors, barriers… The collar acts as a door. The ray shields are doors. The Force is infinite – _we_ are not. Our midi-chlorians, therefore, are also not. Is that acceptable?”

The Slave had blinked at realizing that the question was directed to him specifically, and Anakin turned to look at him, too, something delighted in him when the Slave opened his mouth. For a moment Anakin had felt his heart leap into his throat, waiting to hear a reply…

That never came.

The Slave seemed to realize what he was about to do and closed his mouth, turning on his heel and walking away to the bed and promptly flopped onto it.

Conversation over.

Qui-Gon had nodded thoughtfully, clearly thinking, before uttering a single word: “Juvenile.”

Anakin had ducked reflexively as something careened towards his head, only to catch on the ray shield and immediately burst into flames in a sudden flash of heat at the contact. Barely a second later the anti-fire systems had come to life, pouring water into the cell. Where the Slave had been, he was now gone, and Anakin had stood up, for a moment feeling pure panic, when he realized that he’d hidden under the bed. Avoiding the water, perhaps, or maybe just avoiding detection.

The Temple Guards ran forward then, and Qui-Gon stood up to meet them.

“It’s fine,” he had said, holding his hands up. “I merely…well, I had forgotten that he is a _Sith_ Juvenile. I am afraid I baited him. It was a pillow, that’s all.”

The Slave had moved out from under the bed and was standing in the middle of the room, Anakin noticed, and he looked a bit as though he was bracing himself. Anakin had recognized that pose, that defiance and yet utter submission. It had hurt him to see it, and he had quickly tugged at Qui-Gon’s tunic, looking up at him with wide eyes. “He won’t be punished, right?”

“No, Anakin,” Qui-Gon had returned. “That was…a series of unfortunate events that does not warrant further punishment. He will be fine.”

“Okay,” Anakin had said, sighing.

Anakin remembered looking to the Slave, wanting to smile, wanting to reassure him that it was okay, and had found himself staring at a face that did not understand. At utter incomprehension.

It had turned his stomach in a way he didn’t want to contemplate.

Even now, waiting for Obi-Wan to be done, waiting for him to come out and be Knighted, to be a Jedi, to be an _Equal_ …

Anakin could not think of that expression. Could not think of the fact that he had been so prepared to be punished he was unable to understand when he was not. Anakin had been under very impatient Masters, yet even then there were times when he had been afforded a bit of grace. He had come to expect that if he could prove that he would be better off uninjured they were ultimately less likely to punish him. If the Slave hadn’t expected that, either he had simply never learned how to bargain for himself, or his Master was something else.

What that something else was, Anakin still did not want to think about.

He had seen those scars. He knew the look in those eyes.

He didn’t even want to admit to himself that the worst thing about those eyes hadn’t been the fact that he was expecting punishment…

It was the _defeat_.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi had succeeded.

He stood there before the hooded figures of the Council, surrounded on all sides by their blue, green and singular purple lightsabers splitting the darkness, feeling the proud warmth of his Master reaching out to him…of his _Brother_.

Yoda stood before him on his chair, and there was the slightest of smiles on his wrinkled face, even as he beckoned him forward with a “Padawan, step forward…”

Obi-Wan did, falling into a kneeling position, his head lowering, warmth buzzing up within him, so warm, so warm.

Yoda’s blade rose above his head, the others lowering, respect and pride and peace swelling around all of them, bathing him.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Yoda intoned, “By the right of the Council,” he brought his blade hovering over his right shoulder, “by the will of the Force,” and his blade moved to hover over his left, “Dub thee, I do, Jedi.”

The deliberate flick of Yoda’s lightsaber sent the Padawan braid that he had beaded and kept for so many years flying to the floor.

“Knight of the Republic,” Yoda finished.

Obi-Wan stood, the smell of singed hair in his nose had never been more welcome, and the Masters around him disengaged their lightsabers, and fell into a bow. Obi-Wan bowed back.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a Jedi Knight.

He had done it.

They made a path for him to exit and Obi-Wan turned, leaving the Council, feeling lighter than air. He walked out of the darkness of the Council room into the warmth and rest of the Temple and found himself smiling. A hand on his shoulder turned his attention to find Qui-Gon standing there, beaming down at him, that warmth and pride so much more pronounced.

“Well done,” he said softly. The embrace he was pulled into was one he buried himself in in a way he had not since he was very small.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Thank _you_ ,” Qui-Gon returned softly. “I could not have asked for a better student.”

“You’re going to get a new one soon, I think,” Obi-Wan smiled.

“Perhaps,” Qui-Gon nodded, smiling back as he took a step away, the two of them walking a little farther down the hall. “Though…” he took a breath. “Obi-Wan, I had been meaning to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“Would you be interested in helping me train Anakin, should he decide he wishes to pursue being a Knight?”

Obi-Wan blinked.

“This, of course, would be something you would do when you were free. Being a Knight is quite different, as you are aware, but…you have a connection,” Qui-Gon said. “I believe that he would benefit greatly from the both of us.”

Obi-Wan smiled, “I’d be honored. When are you planning on going to Naboo?”

Qui-Gon blinked, “Obi-Wan, this was not meant to…”

“I know it was not, Ma-… Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan finished, with a feeling of bright joy at seeing Qui-Gon’s gently reproachful look, the tiniest of smiles on his face, “I merely thought that it would be good to keep track of, so I could make sure I was at the Temple, should Anakin decide…”

Qui-Gon’s smile grew wider. “Thank you, Obi-Wan,” he said very firmly. “The Order has gained so much from your Knighthood.”

Obi-Wan beamed.

“I will be leaving tomorrow. It was one of the only times the Queen had for me, and she was very insistent that we free her quickly.” Qui-Gon smiled. “As I thought, she _also_ felt the need to set her free. I will be calling the Temple, keep a holoprojector handy.”

“I will, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan promised, repeating the name just because he could.

A hand brushed his shoulder as they lapsed into silence and continued further in the hall just as Obi-Wan felt the warm presence of Plo Koon, and he turned to beam at the Kel Dor.

“Congratulations, Knight Kenobi,” Plo Koon said softly, and the words were enough to bring a smile back to Obi-Wan’s face.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan returned. “It…thank you.”

The congratulations from the others came in then, having understood that his conversation with Qui-Gon was done, all of them warm and fond, and Obi-Wan basked in them for as long as he could, before he breathed them out.

Finally, the two of them went to the Archives, hearing a gasp they turned to see Anakin standing next to Madame Jocasta Nu, who looked up to the both of them with a smile. Anakin immediately ran towards Obi-Wan, beaming wide, only to freeze when he realized the braid was gone. For a moment he looked confused, wondering, and then full realization struck, and Anakin’s smile turned so wide.

“You did it!” he nearly yelled, only stomping it down at the feeling of warning from Madame Jocasta, but it did not stop him from throwing himself at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan caught him, surprise filling him, but it did not stop him from pulling Anakin further up into his hold, feeling Anakin burying his little face into his shoulder and squeezing even tighter. “ _I_ knew _you could do it_ ,” he whispered, and Obi-Wan found himself beaming wider than he ever had.

“Thank you,” Obi-wan said, and put Anakin down, before looking to Qui-Gon.

“We will celebrate tonight,” Qui-Gon said with a smile, “I will be leaving for Naboo tomorrow.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Already?” he gasped, staring between them. “Are you… _really_?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon smiled. “I was able to contact the Queen, and she was rather insistent that we do it as soon as possible. She had been thinking about the fate of your mother as well.”

“Even with all of Naboo?” Anakin whispered.

“You are part of the reason Naboo is free, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said softly. “Your hospitality, your mother’s willingness to let you go…they are not to be overlooked, not even for a Queen, or a people that are grieving. You brought them _freedom_ , Anakin, and that is not something they are likely to forget.”

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin took this in for a while, his head bowed. “And I get to bring freedom to my mom…”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed gently. “And eventually to the rest of your people.”

Anakin nodded slowly. “Qui-Gon,” he asked softly, why haven’t the Jedi brought freedom to my people before? – hovered near his lips, but in the end he couldn’t ask it. Not yet. But that left something else to ask, something that he had realized with a hot rush of dismay as Madame Nu put a flimsi before him, as she told him that this contained the knowledge of the Sith that was appropriate for Younglings.

“Yes, Anakin?” Qui-Gon asked gently as the silence stretched on, prompting.

“I can’t read that,” Anakin whispered. “I…I can read,” he said defensively when he caught the Jedi’s twin expressions, “but…not that.”

“You would have learned Huttese, then,” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, frowning, and Anakin nodded.

“It’s popular with all the traders,” Anakin explained. “Watto made sure that I could read it in order to mind the shop for him. But…we didn’t get enough people dealing in…whatever that writing is for him to teach me.”

“That writing is called Aurebesh,” Qui-Gon explained. “It is popular among the Inner Rim in particular, and it is a 34-letter writing system, very different from the 26-letter Huttese.”

“Can you read Huttese?”

“I can,” Qui-Gon nodded, “as can Obi-Wan. I believe that, if you would like…”

“I would be happy to teach you,” Obi-Wan said with a smile.

Anakin breathed a tiny, “Wizard,” and smiled at them both.

“But later,” Qui-Gon said, clapping his hands together. “For tonight, I believe we shall celebrate. Do you have a request, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan looked thoughtful for a moment, before grinning, “Dex?”

Qui-Gon beamed at him, “Dex it is,” he agreed with a nod.

Obi-Wan took in Anakin’s very interested expression, beaming secretly, and the two Jedi walked out of the archives, Anakin following along in their wake, asking questions that they were pleased to answer – though they never once answered the question of who precisely Dex was, or where they were going.

Obi-Wan took a certain amount of amused delight in this, and idly wondered if that was why Qui-Gon had always been so obtuse. The difference, he supposed, was this surprise would be a good one, or at least, one that likely had a very entertaining reaction.

Either way, Obi-Wan was very much looking forward to it.

* * *

Anakin followed Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon out of the Temple, unable to stop himself from staring around at their surroundings. Anakin was still awed every single time he looked around at the interior, and he knew that there was so much more yet to discover. It made him excited to think about these unknown things that hid within the temple, waiting to be discovered.

As exciting as the Temple was, he couldn’t help the awe that filled him upon exiting, taking in the massive city. He’d seen it before, of course, but there was something about it that he thought he would never get used to, not least because of the sheer number of lives that pressed against him. Anakin moved a bit closer to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, seeking some of their natural shielding as the Temple’s own shielding. So many lives, so many signatures shining all around him.

Obi-Wan had explained that the Temple had a natural shielding in place in order to help protect the Younglings who could not shield as well on their own. It also helped make it harder for anyone who might attempt to attack them. Should they be Force Sensitive, they wouldn’t know how many were within until they were within the natural shields, and at that point the Jedi would be able to sense them.

As it was, Anakin found himself more and more grateful for those shields, because the longer they were out of the Temple the more uncomfortable Anakin was getting.

The constant presences weren’t _painful_ , precisely, just…distracting, omnipresent, a great crush of people that surrounded him on every side. Anakin was used to crowds, to a certain extent, but they were nothing compared to the people that seemed to swell up around them. They gave passing nods and glances to the Jedi and Anakin, showing a modicum amount of respect, which was returned. He had to figure that being a Jedi would be immediately recognized among these people when their main Temple was amongst them.

Anakin spent the entire time to their destination split between fighting off a building headache and wondering where they were going. And then they branched off. Anakin followed the Jedi as they walked to what Anakin stared at for a while, wondering what he was seeing, and then.

“A diner?” Anakin asked, hearing the rise in pitch of his own voice, unable to fight the surprise that filled him.

“Dex’s Diner,” Obi-Wan grinned, and with that unhelpful answer, opened the door for Anakin and Qui-Gon, who stepped in together, Obi-Wan following.

It was near closing time, Anakin realized, seeing the sign on the door, as well as sending a quick glance to the chrono on the wall, but as the chime on the door rang and the WA-7 looked up from wiping down one of the tables, calling out, “Dex, some Jedi are here!” Anakin looked over to see a large alien leaning out of the window that separated the kitchen from the rest of the diner, and his brown eyes gleamed with a smile.

“Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon!” he called out, his wattle swelling with his grin, and he walked out from around the counter. The alien, which Anakin recognized as a Besalisk, came forward towards them, beaming, four arms spreading wide. He engulfed both of them in two separate hugs, laughing as they hugged him back.

“It’s good to see you, Dex,” Qui-Gon smiled.

“Always a pleasure,” Dex returned, still beaming, and then he turned his focus to Anakin “And who’s this?” he asked, that grin still there, and Anakin couldn’t help but smile back.

“Anakin Skywalker, sir,” Anakin said, not sure how to properly greet him, even with all of the warmth that he exuded. He was still really _big_ …

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Dex said, “My name’s Dexter Jettster, but you can call me Dex, everyone else does.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anakin returned with a smile.

“What brings you three here, then,” Dex said, frowning thoughtfully, his attention sliding between them, and then he focused on Obi-Wan, his gaze sharpening, and once again that smile spread wide. “Well! What do you know…” He grinned, “Am I actually standing in the presence of _two_ Jedi Knights?”

“You are indeed,” Qui-Gon smiled, putting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Obi-Wan passed his trials tonight.”

Dex laughed aloud, going for another hug that lifted Obi-Wan off of his feet. “Wonderful, good for you, Obi-Wan, that’s fantastic! Best news I’ve had all week! And you come here to celebrate?”

“Of course, Dex,” Obi-Wan managed after brushing himself off, laughing, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“Ah, no problem,” he said, waving off. “It’s nice to be able to provide for studying Padawans.” He grinned and shooed them into a booth. “Tell you what, I’ll treat you. How does that sound?”

“Thank you, but we really shouldn’t…”

“Ah,” Dex winked, “But not _couldn’t_.” He called to a human waitress and talked them through some options, Anakin wound up just saying whatever was best. Dex eyed him for a moment, thoughtful, and then gave a satisfied nod. He left them at their table, the last few people trickling out as the door was shut and the human waitress, who introduced herself as Hermione, closed and locked the door, drawing the blinds. Dex came back a bit later with Hermione carrying a tray with him, which he placed before them, and Hermione set something down in front of Anakin that about made him start drooling.

Covered in white fluffy cream, and crowned by a few red fruits of some sort, it was _beautiful_. Dex handed him a spoon, even as he placed two tall glasses in front of himself and Qui-Gon, while Obi-Wan got another glass that seemed to be full of something closer to what he had.

“What is it, sir?” Anakin asked.

“Dex, please,” Dex corrected gently, “and it’s a Neuvian Sundae. I think you’ll like it a lot. Just be sure to eat it slow, it’s cold.” Anakin took a bite and nearly melted into the seat. Dex just beamed at him.

Like Dex had said it wasn’t just cold, it was _frozen_ , and Anakin had never tasted anything better, the cream was delicious, and the tart of the fruit mixed well with the gentle flavor of the frozen treat. “This is _great_ ,” he managed, “Thank you!”

“Not at all,” Dex winked. “So, who are you that you’re wandering around with a couple of old Jedi like them. You a Padawan?” Dex leaned back slightly, looking to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with a teasing glint in his eye. “Couldn’t wait to start teaching again?”

“Anakin is considering being my Padawan, yes,” Qui-Gon agreed with a nod, and Anakin was momentarily happy that he had spoken for him. That phrase ‘not yet,’ had popped into his head again, and he was glad that he hadn’t gotten an opportunity to say it. “Teaching again did sound appealing,” Qui-Gon agreed. “Teaching is a privilege that I am lucky to be able to undertake.”

Dex nodded solemnly, “I hear you; I hear you. Well, possible-Padawan, you couldn’t have picked a better group to get into.” Dex winked. “You won’t get a better education from any of the others.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Qui-Gon said, straightening. “The Jedi is full of wonderful teachers.”

“Ah, I’m sure,” Dex waved off, “but none of them are in _my_ diner.” Dex leaned forward, grinning, and there was a burst of laughter. “They don’t know where the good stuff is,” he winked at Anakin, who laughed himself.

“How’d you get to meet Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon?”

“Oh,” Dex leaned back, his eyes rolling back slightly as he thought, “That was a while ago.”

“Oh, please, Dex, you’ll make me sound old,” Obi-Wan teased.

Dex laughed. “I think what I’m trying to emphasize is that you were _young_ ,” he grinned. “We met back in my old spacer days,” he said humming, “back when I was running a bar in Ord Sigatt.” He grinned in a way that spoke of running a lot more than just a bar, and Anakin leaned forward, taking another bite of his sundae, interest running through him. “They helped me, I helped them,” he trailed off with a slight shrug. “Either way we’ve been helping each other ever since, and I long lost track of who owes who. At this point it’s best to just call it a friendship.”

“And a long and beneficial one to both of us,” Qui-Gon agreed with a smile.

“You were a _smuggler_?” Anakin hissed out, and Dex laughed aloud, grinning.

“Well…I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said his grin widening as he leaned closer, baring more of his sharp teeth, but it didn’t feel like a threat, almost like a punctuation to a joke he wasn’t quite aware of. “I’m a humble Diner owner,” he said, “Best one in CoCo Town.”

Anakin took another scoop of his sundae and nodded. Obviously, they couldn’t be completely level with what it was that Dex had been doing, and he supposed he understood. Anakin wasn’t a Jedi yet, and it was likely that they had reasons behind whatever had happened.

Either way, Anakin was content to eat his ice cream, listening to the chatter and the congratulations that washed over him, using it to drown out that crowded feeling in his soul. By the time they were done, Anakin’s dessert had mixed with the overpowering presence into a sort of sluggish mess in his chest and head. The Jedi caught it, looking at him, and Dex made a few apologies about what he called a sugar-crash.

The only thing Anakin was really conscious of outside of Qui-Gon picking him up and apologizing to Dex while Obi-Wan sneakily put some money on the table behind him, was mumbling that Dex didn’t do anything wrong, he’d really liked the sundae.

And then he fell asleep.

When Anakin woke up, he was back in the room with Obi-Wan, who had removed his shoes and tucked him in the bedroll. The immediate lack of pressure was such a relief that Anakin wound up falling back into slumber.

Tomorrow, Qui-Gon would be on his way to set his mom free. He just hoped he would get to say goodbye before he left…

* * *

Maul was used to having limited stimulation.

His childhood on Mustafar had been spent mostly in isolation – outside of a single Droid whose job it was to train him.

And his Master.

There was always his Master, though in his early days he had not spent much time with him. It was only when Maul had first exhibited his ability to use the Force that his Master had taken an interest. Until then, Maul had not even known his name.

Maul’s early days there had been spent learning – not just how to fight but running numerous simulations that taught him about the wider galaxy and his place in it. But that had been limited, and when that was done, he would be returned to his room.

There had been two rooms, the first with a window that allowed him to see out into the lava flows of Mustafar, that let him sometimes see the miners that walked its surface, and had been his primary salvation when it came to staving off the boredom. With that window he had been at least able to see something outside of the four metal walls, his sleeping mat, and the faucet that was activated by a palm sensor placed by a drainage hole. There had been nothing else within that room, but so long as he could see out, he could imagine being upon its surface, regardless of what the Droid Deenine said about how he wouldn’t be able to live upon it.

The sight of his reflection in the polarized window had also given him the idea of another boy that he could talk to, could be with…because initially he had thought it had _been_ another boy. The realization that it had been _him_ had come shortly after, as well as a deep fascination for his own reflection as it had been the first time he had seen himself…

And then he was moved to another room, a bigger one, and while there was a part of him that had adored it, because it was a symbol that he was getting better, that he was succeeding and his Master was proud of him…

There had been no window.

That lack had brought him to the biggest mistake of his young life, but also the one that had caused the world to open up before him. Maul had gotten onto the surface of Mustafar, Maul had found freedom.

It had just taken painting the remembered lava flows of Mustafar upon the wall in his own blood for his Master to make the decision that obviously, since Maul missed the view so much, he should be allowed to go onto it. And then he had been thrown into the middle of the wilderness and left to find his way back.

Maul had survived being upon its surface, had managed to kill the Miners that had threatened him and make his way back after seventeen standard days.

Maul looked at the ‘prison’ that surrounded him once again, something habitual that he had taken to out of a stunned disbelief that the Jedi could be this _soft_. There was even a separate area for the refresher. And a _plant_. There was just one thing he lacked, and it was a window, but he could not be overly surprised.

The only thing that mattered was that they could see in, could see what he was doing, not that Maul could see _out_. It wasn’t even because he wished to imagine himself outside of his cell, Maul had long been broken of such trivialities, but at least it would give him a better idea of what was going on outside of these walls, outside of the changing of the Guard, and the odd meal times that Maul could not properly time.

As though summoned, Maul heard the clicking of a cane, as well as a soft humming. Maul paused in his pushup – turning it into a plank - and turning slightly to look at the ray shielded door as someone approached. Maul watched as the elderly green troll that he recognized from what had been meant to be his execution came into view, still quietly humming.

“Ah,” the small troll said with a smile, “awake, you are. Pleased, I am.”

Maul stared at him for a moment, idly aware of a bead of sweat plopping from his forehead onto the ground below.

What?

“Brought food, I did,” he hummed, and showed him the tray that had been levitating near his head, kept up with the Force while the small being leaned on his cane. He looked the tray over, selecting two pieces and biting into them with surprisingly sharp teeth, nodding approvingly over the taste, before letting the tray levitate onto the small platform and it was once again pushed in. Maul finally allowed himself to break from his plank, walking over and taking the tray, still keeping an eye on the figure.

“Yoda, my name is,” he said finally after Maul had taken a bite of one of the spiced meats, nearly causing him to choke.

Maul knew that name.

Yoda was the head of the Jedi Order. He had heard his Master talking about him, but he had never seen him, and he would have never expected…

“Heard of me, you have,” Yoda smiled at him, a look that seemed more pleased than it should be. “Heard of _you_ …I have not, though expected, you likely find this to be. Your name, young Sith, I would have.”

Maul said nothing.

Yoda hummed quietly, sitting cross-legged before him on the floor. “Questions, I was told you have,” he said with a smile, finally, after the silence had grown long. “Open to answering any, I am.”

Maul said nothing.

Yoda took this in for a moment, before nodding, closing his eyes and bowing his head. The realization that the other was meditating for a moment felt like a special brand of insult, not the least because Maul could currently not do it himself, and then Maul decided that two could play at that game and once again began eating.

When he was finished, he placed the tray on the ledge, pushing it close to the opening, and once again moved to the middle of the room, thinking over the forms that he could fall into.

“Well trained, you are,” Yoda said then, and Maul froze, turning to look at him. He hadn’t been expecting for the Master to speak. “Polite, I thought it was, to wait until you had finished.”

Maul blinked.

Yoda still had that pleasant smile on his face, and Maul was somewhere between angry and simply baffled. His Master had mentioned that Yoda was the most irritating of all of them, and had often quietly gone off on rants, but now that he was before him, he could not understand why his Master had not simply killed him. Not for the first time he wished for the collar to be off, to be able to sense the world as he was _meant_ to.

Maul was beginning to think that there was so much more to this old creature than it appeared and being unable to fully sense him was _maddening_. It made him uneasy and Maul was doubly upset because it wasn’t even something he could use.

Fear was his ally.

But collared as he was, Maul could not reach out to it, and Maul did not have any illusions about his own ability to produce fear in the Jedi, not as he was. Not without holding the secrets of his Master, and himself, deep in his chest. The Sith’s greatest ally had been their anonymity, the way that they had buried themselves in history and had been so ignored.

Maul would not be the thing that broke that. Maul would not be the thing that gave.

His mouth curled into a sneer and he turned away.

There was a pause then, before a soft hum sounded once again, and quietly, “Commended, you should be, for your loyalty to your Master, to your Order.”

Maul said nothing, though that uneasy feeling of being seen through rose in the back of his mind.

“Surprised, I am not,” Yoda said then, which caused Maul to hesitate. “Surprised I _am_ , that the catwalks to the Generator Room, that the room itself…you did not trap.”

For a moment Maul did not follow, and then he bristled, turning around to face him once again, baring his teeth.

“Hmm,” Yoda tilted his head back slightly, watching him. “Like that, you did not. Why?” Yoda took him in quietly his expression thoughtful. “A code, do you have, hmm? Honor, do you try and possess?”

Maul’s hands balled into fists, before he finally turned his nose up slightly and looked away.

“Poor phrasing, that was,” Yoda said quietly, thoughtfully. “Easier this would be, if spoke you did as well. A challenge this was not meant to be. Little doubt, I have, that you can possess honor. Strange it is, to find a Sith in possession of it.” Yoda tilted his head slightly, staring at him with his large eyes. “Strange, perhaps, it _was_.”

Maul said nothing, though words burned in his throat. Challenges, about Jedi that forced other Force users into their Order through pain and death. The brainwashing so they fell to their Order, the way they stole children… All things that he could hiss about Jedi and _their_ honor.

Maul bit it down and said nothing.

He would not fall for their false flattery. They knew nothing of honor anyway.

“Hmm…” Yoda tilted his head as he stared up at him. “The will of the Force it is, that you are here, young Sith,” he said, changing his tack in a way that surprised Maul. “Perhaps, something to be gained there is, for _you_.”

And finally, Maul could not help it, he opened his mouth, and in a voice made thick from lack of use, asked: “If the Force has a will, do we not enslave it?”

Yoda’s expression brightened, giving a bright hum at the question. “Speak, you can, delighted I am. And a good question, this is!” Yoda smiled at him, further emphasizing his wrinkles as he gave another quiet hum, this one thoughtful. “To be Jedi is to seek the will of the Force in everything we do.”

“And carrying trays is the Force’s will?” Maul couldn’t help but ask, looking to the tray.

Yoda laughed, something that made a brief lurch of…Maul did not _know_ rise up in his chest, “Ah, then a question of should we use the Force at all, is what you are challenging. A puzzle this is!” Yoda smiled. “How feel you?”

Maul said nothing.

“Lacking, are you?”

Maul said nothing.

“Seeks for us to use it, the Force does, why else would we feel loss at its lack?” Yoda stared at him thoughtfully. “A good challenge, this still is. Break it, enslave it, do _you_?”

Maul hesitated, and then said nothing.

“Given we have been, a gift, powerful, _powerful_ ,” Yoda shook his head thoughtfully, his expression quietly sorrowful. “Terrible and _great_ …use it properly, we must.”

“And you have deemed that I use it poorly,” Maul frowned, his hands balling into fists. “What right do you have to judge _that_?”

Yoda nodded slowly. “If your freedom I would give, do with it, what would you?”

Maul bared his teeth.

The deep sigh that left Yoda, the soft shake of his head at that non-response, as though Maul had spat out what was in his heart, of the entire Order cut to shreds at his hand, of the terrible, awful vengeance he would wreak in revenge of the devastation of his own Order so many, many years ago had suffered… Maul hissed through his teeth and looked away.

“Believe, we do, that meant to be here you are,” Yoda said finally, after the silence had grown long. “Perhaps, things to be learned, we both have.” Maul frowned, looking back to him. “Your name, young Sith?” he asked once again, and Maul stared at him, for a moment thinking once again of saying nothing.

And then he thought of that slave boy, the one who claimed kinship with him, the one that refused to call him by anything but what he was _not_. He thought of the possible nicknames and jests they could create, the disrespect they could give him while he was still bound in collar and behind wall, and softly, grudgingly, “Maul. Darth Maul.”

Yoda beamed at him, standing, his expression full of brightness and warmth, even as he collected the tray with a wave of his hand. “Well met it is, Darth Maul. Well met, indeed.”

Maul watched as the wizened old figure left the room, and felt idly, that he had been baited.


	5. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOO~~ Gosh it's been a while LOL I'm so sorry about that. I have several excuses running the gambit between school has started again and I'm going in for a Master's degree so I'm swamped, to I keep writing other parts of this story. I have written other parts of this story to the point where the grand total of all words written for this is over 250,000. And like. I have barely a smidgen of that posted so XD XD We'll fix that!!! I'm hoping that the next chapter won't take as long. This one for whatever reason just fought me. Qui-Gon's part in particular was madness. But here it is, and I have a gift for you~ Maul gets two perspectives this time, with two separate people XD As a bit of a spoiler though, I discovered in my research that bounces back and forth from Canon to Legends because why limit yourself to just one... Plo Koon has this lovely gem in his Legends bio: Plo Koon was a Jedi Master so powerful that the Sith Lord Darth Maul considered him to be one of the greatest Jedi warriors of his time, though they never dueled one another - and if you think that I am not going to utilize this information so graciously given to me, then you are hella mistaken XD 
> 
> This chapter gets a bit politics heavy, and I think the next one will, too? But it's also moving along. I'm pretty excited guys. Um. Thoughts thoughts. Oh! I came upon the realization today that Maul was basically highly specialized in Killing people and the art of Sneaking Around to Kill People, and as there is a LOT of canon that suggests Maul is a devastating beast that outstrips most of his peers... Yeah. https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/734716245567340614/759885040418684958/main-qimg-7a05cd9fbb5d818fedecc41022b1f2f3.png - this one from the new canon reference book All you Need to Know pretty much sticks him in the top three red lightsaber wielders, above both Dooku and Ventress. Fun shit. Pity that's just about all he was trained in LOLOLOL. 
> 
> The characterization from the Naboo Handmaids and...well, Padmé, too comes from Queen's Peril and Queen's Shadow. If you all are interested in getting a better understanding of Padmé then I would actually recommend the books? They are different to your normal. These two are very firm in their status as tie-ins and while that's fine it is something to consider. They're also pretty slow moving and political character studies so LOL Anyway. I think I've taken enough time from you all. 
> 
> Warnings: talks of slavery and corruption, references to past abuse.

Maul had never been more certain of the fact that he should have said nothing than when the Kel Dor from earlier sauntered up to his cell. Maul paused in the middle of a kick that was higher than his own head, frowning towards him.

“Oh, please, Darth Maul,” he said, and somehow the amusement that the Kel Dor felt was audible even through the voice modulator. Maul bristled, even as that soft voice continued, “there is no need to stop on my account. I had actually been curious as to your form.”

Maul hesitated, before slowly bringing his foot down.

“Your control is remarkable for someone your apparent age…” the other said thoughtfully.

Maul said nothing, nor did he continue.

“I have trained Masters that did not have your discipline in Zavat,” the Kel Dor mused. “And frankly, the amount of forms you hold that same level of mastery in is…quite impressive. Teräs Käsi, Echani, K’tara, at the least that I’ve recognized, and I suspect you have many more and have simply not cycled through them… Echani is particularly difficult to master given how many levels it has and how it is taught.” The Kel Dor frowned, before quietly continuing, “I have also heard from Master Jinn how devastating you were with a saberstaff. A very unusual weapon, and one with a very high skill-threshold necessary in order to utilize it properly without damaging the wielder. Were you a bounty hunter before you were found by your Master? I cannot think of another opportunity you would have had to have been trained in so many forms of combat. I must admit I’m very curious about your background.”

Maul said nothing, though now he was a bit more curious about this Kel Dor. Idly, Maul thought about the fact that he had been given his name before, but initially he had dismissed it. Maul was familiar with a Kel Dor in the Jedi, had admired him as a duelist and a… But why would he bring him _soup_? Why would he offer any sort of comfort? Surely if he was one of the best fighters among the Jedi…

Before Maul could stop himself, he found himself asking, “Who _are_ you?”

The Kel Dor seemed a bit surprised, before laughing, “My apologies, I suppose introducing myself when I did initially was a mistake. My name is Plo Koon. Master Koon is acceptable, as is simply Koon. Would you prefer I refer to you as Darth Maul, or would Maul be sufficient?”

Maul was suddenly nearly bursting with questions, and it was a force of will to stop from voicing them. Maul hesitated though, at giving him the opportunity to use his name, and then he settled on a smirk that bared his teeth. “You may call me Lord.”

Koon (for Maul only had one Master) laughed aloud, the sound distorted by the mask, but he nodded, “Very well, Lord. Were you a bounty hunter?”

Maul hesitated, frowning slightly. He knew that to answer too many questions would be dangerous, and he knew also that to betray his Master in devolving any secrets would be punished severely when Maul escaped and returned to him. His Master would _know_ that Maul had divulged information, he was never able to hide from him. But Maul also was uncertain if he should continue to allow such misinformation and insult to continue.

Why were they so fixated on his age? Were they upset that his Master had gotten to him before they had? Would they have preferred to have taken him as a youngling and were simply upset that they had missed the opportunity?

Were children taken by Sith unusual?

“I have been a bounty hunter before,” Maul finally settled on. It was true after all, he had taken on many roles in the service of his Master, a bounty hunter had been one of them, but it was unlikely that these Jedi would be able to find evidence of him. It was also simple truth that Maul knew that lying to the Jedi would not get him very far in the long run.

Maul was quite certain that his mental shields were still up and he knew that he was not weak enough to fall for a Jedi’s tricks, he nonetheless was also certain that if they thought him lying they may seek to force the truth out of him, and ultimately, and most sickeningly, he was imprisoned and kept from the Force. 

In the end it was ultimately safer to be careful with what truths he divulged and therefore control what it was the Jedi thought.

Plo nodded, looking at him with an emotion Maul could not make out. Maul had not been aware of how much he relied on the Force to guide his impression of people. He was not sure how much he appreciated the realization.

“A bounty hunter turned Sith Lord,” he said thoughtfully. “Truly we live in strange times. Though perhaps a connection with a group of bounty hunters would be something that would make sense for a group attempting to keep in the shadows.”

Maul said nothing.

“I apologize, Lord,” Koon said finally, shaking his head, and Maul snapped to attention. “I have been running down a trail you are unable to answer. Not without putting you at risk of betraying your honor. Is there a topic of conversation you would deem safer? Perhaps…” Koon hummed, “Well,” he laughed. “I suppose I ought to allow you to pick. It is, after all, what _you_ would find safe. I would not wish to guide you, Lord, in choosing your own mind.” 

Maul found himself speechless. He did not _understand_ Jedi.

Koon seemed to smile at him and said nothing, waiting, apparently, for Maul to make up his own mind.

Maul hesitated. “I have grown tired of the simple use of my title. You may progress to Lord Maul,” he said finally, leading to a what he felt was a smile, though he wasn’t sure of the meaning behind it. “I _have_ heard of you,” Maul settled on quietly, unable to keep from the mention.

“Have you, Lord Maul,” Koon said without malice, and there was something like amusement and a smile in his tone. “I am uncertain whether I should be flattered or concerned at the idea of a Sith knowing who I am.”

“Flattered,” Maul returned easily. “You were thought highly enough of to be a threat.”

“And were you the one who would deal with me, should you have come across me, Lord Maul?” Koon asked, his head tilting to the side.

Maul gave a soft hum, his own head tilting in a mimic – as well as a threat. “I _had_ wondered which would prove the victor.”

“While I would state that a spar _is_ tempting, I am afraid I simply cannot trust you enough to let you out.”

Maul found himself surprised. “It is _tempting_?”

“Of course,” Koon returned, “you are the first Sith Lord that we have seen in over a thousand years. The idea of seeing who is truly more skilled between the two of us has crossed my mind. Over a thousand years of secrecy, of hiding in the shadows, combated against traditional and open methodology. I am _very_ interested, particularly after having heard you stood toe-to-toe with Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi. That is no small feat.”

Maul sneered.

“You do not think much of their skill,” Koon spread a taloned hand, “and yet you are _here_. Though perhaps that does not say much against your own skill.” Koon tilted his head thoughtfully, his gaze unreadable. “You did manage to live, to lead them to a place of your choosing, and it _was_ two against one.” 

Maul said nothing, he just seethed internally.

“Regardless,” Koon said, “it is tempting, Lord Maul, but it will not be something that shall be found out anytime soon.”

Maul fought very hard not to glare. It was his own damn fault. In deciding to show his competence he had lost the element of surprise. But the issue remained that practicing a form badly was not something he had been trained to do. They were habits, long engrained through years and years of constant discipline and training.

Maul’s forms had been beaten into him. He would not compromise that, not even for the chance to spar with Koon.

Maul knew that eventually he would have to kill him and made a mental note to make his death quick and painless.

Koon deserved that much at least.

“I have noticed you have not read any of the books we have left you?”

“Jedi propaganda?” Maul returned, eyeing the flimsi with distaste.

Koon laughed aloud, “Perhaps you would prefer Sith propaganda? Unfortunately, we are quite out of that, Lord Maul.”

“Darth Maul is acceptable.”

“Very kind, Darth Maul,” Koon gave him one of those not-smiles again. “Though I believe if you would look you would find that there are many stories that are simply… _stories_. There are no hints of Jedi histories, no Sith histories… They are merely tales, works of fiction.”

Maul took this in for a moment, looking to the flimsi, before back at Koon. “Why?”

Koon tilted his head back slightly, “Why?” he repeated, almost feeling out the question.

Maul did not understand.

Koon stared at him for a long moment, before seeming to come to the conclusion that Maul would not elaborate. Maul did not know how. “Have you ever dreamed?”

Maul narrowed his eyes slightly, uncertain of the question. He had dreamed, of course. He had dreamed of devastation, of the Jedi Order dead at his hand.

He still dreamed of that sometimes.

But Maul had little doubt that this was not what Koon was referring to.

“Have you ever…felt the urge to _create_?” Koon asked, his question broadening in a way that Maul had not expected. What did this have to do with dreaming? With writing? “Have you…have you ever painted? Or written anything that was not a report?”

Maul tilted his head.

“…You were a bounty hunter,” Koon tried, his brow pinching low over his protective lenses. “Have you ever painted your armor? Created your mark upon it or any surface? Thought of an image of something you _wanted_ so badly you had to paint it before you could bring it truly into existence?”

Maul hesitated, thinking of a black room, four walls and nothing else, of the bright red of his own blood breaking the darkness, a reflection of the window that he had longed for. Of the Freedom he had wanted, of a boy he saw in the window, that ran in the lava flows of Mustafar in a way that he could not. Of a boy that did not exist.

Of a reflection in glass.

And then Maul thought of his arm being broken, of being thrown onto its surface in punishment for giving into that weakness. Maul thought of the smoke that choked and smothered, the lava that burned and stung, thought of an arm that had to be broken and reset when he returned. Maul thought of all of these things, and it was with this in mind that he looked to Koon and quietly, “Dreaming is a weakness. Painting an image of what you wish to happen only distracts you from what is real. And then you stand upon the surface, you stand where you had wished to be – and you find it pales. Why would you waste your time dreaming?”

Koon stared at him for a very long moment with an emotion that he could not read. For a moment Maul worried that he had said too much. But it had been a simple question…there had been nothing that betrayed his Master, _or_ him. Maul did not understand that look.

“Might I make a request?” Koon finally asked softly, and Maul tilted his head. “There is a flimsi in that pile titled _The End of Dying_. Would you read it? There is…a depiction of a martial art within it, that I have always considered to be a…well, frankly a _bastardization_ of Teräs Käsi, but I was never certain. Perhaps you will think of another martial art it could be.”

Maul frowned, looking to the pile of flimsi, and then back to Koon.

“You are not required, of course,” Koon said with a smile. “Master Koth shall be here soon with your breakfast. It was…a pleasure to talk to you, Darth Maul. You may refer to me as Master Plo. If you would like to read it then please do, I am curious as to your opinion of the piece.”

With that, Plo offered a bow, and walked away, radiating thoughtfulness.

Maul did not read the flimsi, but when Koth brought his breakfast, and Maul worked his way through his favorites, he searched it out. Maul stared at the title, took in the cover with a frown, and finally tossed it into the corner.

It would be weeks before he thought about it again.

And he would find that he still did not understand.

* * *

Plo Koon wandered through the halls of the Jedi Temple in a way he had not in a long time.

As a member of the Council, Plo often found himself going _to_ something instead of simply allowing himself to wander. As Plo walked, he found himself looking up, taking in the tapestries, the statues, all of the art that surrounded him. The Temple was beautiful. It displayed its history in every artifact, upon almost every surface… It depicted their dreams.

Plo thought of a deadly Zabrak covered in tattoos, who did not see the purpose in art, in dreams. Plo had thought earlier that the markings were perhaps Darth Maul’s own attempts to look sinister – now he rather thought they were marks placed upon him by his Master. It would explain why the one who was technically a walking work of art saw no need of it himself.

It also cast the marks in a much more… _negative_ light. Plo frowned idly, thinking of Sith and the likelihood of branding…

Plo thought of a small boy who might be the Chosen One and had once been a Slave, a boy who had looked Darth Maul in the eye and proclaimed him kin, proclaimed him Slave. A boy who had yet to decide to follow their path but knew without doubt that he had a _choice_.

Plo was hopeful that young Anakin Skywalker would decide to join the Jedi. Anyone who had stirred them up as much as he had in such a short time was very good in Plo’s book. The Council needed stirring. So often they had fallen into complacency. It was not good, and with outside perspectives it was interesting to see how much was and was not known about the Jedi in the outer rim territories. The lack of knowledge had been stark.

It had also been a bit of a wakeup call.

The Jedi had always tried to be seen among all of the territories, sending their Agri Corps wherever they were needed, acting as peacekeepers when called upon. But perhaps…perhaps…they needed to be _more_ visible. They needed to be seen in a way that the general public understood. There was a possibility that much was being lost in translation and that was frankly unacceptable. Perhaps talking with young Skywalker would give them an understanding of where to start.

As though summoned, Plo noticed Skywalker and Knight Kenobi on the far side of the Temple, also looking at the artwork. Plo understood that Skywalker had been among the ones looking for what they could give to buy his mother, but he also knew that there was something to be said for appreciating art with a critical eye versus an appreciative one.

And then that brought him to the reason he had spent time wandering.

He walked over to join the two of them, Skywalker and Knight Kenobi both turning to regard him with a call of recognition and a bow, one that he returned politely. “It is good to see you both,” he said with what he knew they would recognize as a smile, being sure to wrinkle the skin around his eyes just so.

“It’s good to see you, Master Koon!” Skywalker called out with a wide smile.

“Young Skywalker,” he said softly, “Teacher Koon is fine.”

“Thank you, sir!” he chirped, smiling.

“Are you both enjoying the art here?”

“There’s so much of it! I really like the statues! Obi-Wan took me to see the chimes, I really enjoyed those.”

Plo thought of a young Zabrak branded and imprisoned, and quietly, “Young Skywalker…I do not… I am unsure how to ask.”

“Just ask, sir,” Skywalker said, looking up at him with a too-serious face for such a small boy. “I understand that we are both learning things.”

Plo smiled at him, “Well said. I had been meaning…to ask you about art. About dreams. You talked about how you dreamed you freed all the slaves…”

“Yes, sir,” Skywalker said with a nod, frowning heavily. “I often did. What about art, though?”

“I must assume you enjoy it, have you ever created any yourself?”

“Loads!” Skywalker cried out, laughing as he spread his arms wide, grinning up at him. Plo smiled in return, buoyed up by his enthusiasm and delight. “I loved to create art. I used to take the scrap from Watto…my…my owner…and I would use it to create pieces for my mom, or for…” he shrugged. “For a lot of people. Charms and protective runes and wind chimes…things like that.”

Plo tilted his head, thinking of the culture that the boy had to have come from, but upon seeing the way Skywalker ducked his head and didn’t extrapolate, he had to assume that those were more private things. Things that he was not ready to share, and so Plo did not ask, even as a part of him bristled at hearing the word ‘owner’ in reference to a living person. “I am pleased to hear that. I have often found that art frees the soul.”

“I always thought so,” Skywalker nodded, and then seemed to realize what he had agreed to, looking away. “I like expressing myself in that way.”

Plo nodded thoughtfully, before sighing.

“Are you okay?” Skywalker asked, blinking up at him, and Plo smiled at him.

“I am, yes,” he agreed softly. “I am merely…” Plo frowned, “trying to understand what was said to me earlier. I had a conversation with our prisoner.”

“He’s _talking_ again?” Skywalker exclaimed. Knight Kenobi raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise as well, and Plo smiled at them.

“He is,” Plo agreed with a nod and a smile. “We talked about art. He mentioned…a great many things. One of which was how he saw no point in dreaming. How painting both distracted from what was real and created a bitter and crushing disappointment once reality came. I have found myself…wondering.”

Skywalker stared at him once again with eyes that were too serious and too old for his face. 

“It’s something I’ve heard used for the slave I think he is,” Skywalker whispered, and there was such seriousness in his voice Plo found himself lowering down to be closer to his level, Knight Kenobi doing the same. “I think…I think that the Slave is a fighter, an…assassin, one that they train to fight to the point where they can go into any situation and handle anything that comes against them.”

Skywalker licked his lips, leaning closer, “but because of how dangerous they make them, because of the fact that they work so hard at making them so deadly…they make sure they don’t dream. They make sure that they know that if they fight back, if they think for even a second that they can be more than what they’re allowed to be…” Skywalker shook his head. “I’ve talked to a few before. I always… Sometimes I feel lucky,” Skywalker whispered. “Even though I was enslaved… Watto never took my dreams.” Skywalker frowned. “Though he tried.”

Plo said nothing, looking to Knight Kenobi, who stared at him with an expression that reflected his own horror back to him.

They needed to do _something_ about this.

This was always something that the Jedi came back to. They were all aware of the horrors of slavery. It was not as though this was a particularly crushing revelation. But whenever he heard more about it, whenever something like this was spoken to the ones that they had managed to release from slavery…there was always that twist in his heart that said they needed to do something. They needed to… But it always ended in stalemate.

The fact remained that the Jedi had neither the manpower nor the political backing to end slavery, and in this manner, it was critical to have both. If you were to attack the Cartels it could very well incite a war, and the Jedi lived directly next to the Senate. They lived upon the Republic that they stood for, and as Plo had watched a little worm of corruption had taken root within the Senate and it had started to grow. The possibility that they would have enough backing to be a threat to the Jedi was undeniable. In the end, the Cartels had names and power. The ones that would oppress took a vote within the Senate, and they had many allies.

Enough allies that the Jedi needed to find another way to come against this issue, a way to fight that did not mean that they were swallowed up within the bureaucracy, and the fact that this was even an issue sometimes kept Plo up at night. He knew he was not the only one. He knew that the Council had twisted and hemmed and questioned what they would do, but there was always that hope that they could still promote change.

Ultimately, though, the Force had not guided them to leave, and so they had stayed.

Plo had to assume it was for some reason. Plo had to assume that they were going to do some good here.

And if they could not, then they would have to find a way to be an instrument of change themselves. If they could not fight a war, and Plo did not think that they could… Then they needed to do something else.

They had placed agents upon Tatooine and others, individuals that were meant to keep an eye on the Cartels and the Hutts and see what they could discover, but there was always a distance that was kept. They were not trusted because they would not reveal themselves, and because they were not trusted there was no way for them to influence, but there was no way for them to act as Jedi. Not without painting a target on their backs and the backs of the ones they attempted to help.

They needed a place to run, a place to take them, and while they could free the one woman…

Plo Koon paused, and really thought about that.

They were going to be freeing someone who was connected to all of this, not just connected but in the middle of it. They would have someone very much on the inside, someone who could show them where to turn and how to act in a way that would be most helpful. They would not have to fight a war. They would not have to become a target that the Senate would point to and say that they were overextending their reach, and they would deal with the fact that they needed to be so underhand later.

Plo shook his head, knowing in his heart of hearts that this was something they absolutely must begin working on. Plo was going to take this to the Council.

Plo would make them see his perspective…or he would leave.

Plo nodded slowly. “I am sorry,” he said softly, “and I know that…it is hollow, but I am.” Plo sighed, lowering his head, “We shall do something about this,” he said softly. “And if we shall not, then _I_ shall.” Plo nodded and Skywalker’s eyes widened as he caught the meaning to his words, shock and awe in his face. “I will be talking to the Council, but if you wish to speak to the prisoner, he is still awake, and he would probably appreciate the distraction.”

Skywalker looked to Knight Kenobi, who looked to Plo with something that might have been amusement and might have been exasperation, before he breathed it out into the Force and stood, smiling. Skywalker looked to Knight Kenobi and practically skipped when he nodded his head in agreement.

“Young Skywalker,” Plo called before they could leave. “We know his name.” Plo watched Skywalker’s eyes narrow in confusion, and then widen in anticipation. Plo smiled warmly, “his name is Darth Maul, or Lord Maul. Use his titles when you go to talk to him. He has won them in blood.”

“We will, sir!” Skywalker called out, before looking to young Kenobi, practically dancing as he waited for him to lead the way.

Plo looked around one more time, and then headed to the Council Room, pressing the notification on his Comm to call an emergency meeting. 

The Council would hear him, and they would like it.

* * *

Mace Windu was tired.

He had been enjoying a cup of tea in his quarters when he received the chime for an emergency meeting from Plo, and immediately went to deal with it, joining up with the others as they walked to the Council Room. The feelings of potential concern and quiet worry at the possibilities that could be brought before them were acknowledged and slowly breathed out.

Plo was waiting for them, standing in the middle of the room, his fingers laced together. They sat around him, all the members of the Council that were in the Temple taking their seats quickly and silently. They had been doing this for too long.

“Master Plo,” Mace acknowledged, as soon as Yoda sat down, giving a soft hum, turning his attention to Plo, “you have the floor.”

“I have been talking with young Skywalker, and young Darth Maul, and it has been…a series of illuminating conversations.” Plo looked to each of them in turn. “I believe that Master Jinn’s task should be more…extensive, and I also believe that we should bring other Jedi into it. We have turned a blind eye to slavery for too long.”

“An attack, do you propose?” Master Yaddle asked softly, a warning in her tone.

This was something that they had discussed frequently, one that they had butted heads on and come to no agreement over. It festered like a bad tooth and there was a frustration that came with it that was breathed out. They couldn’t attack, and they couldn’t get close enough to be recognized for what they were. There were pitfalls after pitfalls. A minefield that had been planted before then that had never been there before, and they weren’t sure how to disarm.

The corruption was new and deep and Windu _wondered_.

“No, Master Yaddle,” Plo sighed. “I believe that we should serve the people we need to protect. That we should defend the ones who need it.”

There was a pause as they looked at each other.

“We have known about this for so long, yet we have allowed it to fester instead of lancing it directly. We have trusted in the Republic, in the Senate when it has been shown of late that in this matter – they will do _nothing_.”

Mace pressed his fingertips together before him as he thought. This was it then, the thing that they had discussed often, with different Jedi taking the very circle before them. But the Galaxy was big, and the Core Worlds were so often in trouble, disasters, and pirates and so much… There was enough manpower to give for all of these travesties, all of this hurt. Even so, it was never far from their minds. Qui-Gon Jinn had been the one before Plo Koon to take the floor.

Qui-Gon Jinn had also been the only one who refused to take a seat on the Council.

Mace Windu looked to Plo Koon, and finally, after the words had simmered in everyone’s head enough for the truth to be felt within them – “What do you propose?”

“We have an opportunity before us that we have never had before,” Plo said very softly. “We have a contact that…and I wish to emphasize this, may, _may_ ask for our help directly. If they do this, we will be in the perfect position to take their lead, to follow where they would put us and act in the way _they_ need. We would not be outsiders horning our way in where we are not needed or wanted, we would be outsiders that ask how can we help you? And if they say we cannot, then we will leave.” Plo tilted his head, “we are meant to serve, are we not? We have so often discussed this as though we must remove the root entirely, as though we must remove the Cartels and the Hutts…in this way, it is not up to _us_. We are not waging a war we cannot win and are not sanctioned to.” 

They looked to each other.

“If they say that they just want resources, a ship, and a proper scanner…a place to go… Perhaps a healer that can remove the chips in a healthy manner, or at least teach them to do so and help prevent infection _if_ they are having trouble with that,” Plo stared at them. “I am not saying we start a war against the Cartels. As we all know we do not have the manpower or the backing to do that, but there is no reason we cannot arm the peoples that would otherwise suffer. There is no reason we should not help them take their own action.”

“I think that this sounds like an excellent idea,” Master Adi Gallia said, her voice firm. “Master Plo is right, this does not step outside of our jobs as peacekeepers, nor does it invite a war – provided of course that we can keep our actions covert, and I have no doubt that we can. We have had agents on Tatooine in the past. There is even one now, Quinlan Vos, who has been working for us for years, though he has been unable to make true headway due to the lack of trust. There may be a way for Jinn and Vos to work together in this matter. _Should_ they ask for our help directly, we can reveal him as someone for them to trust, and similarly they can know that they are not alone.”

Mace found himself nodding. It was a good plan, one that was not without its own risks, but at the same time… One that would be easier to explain. They could position themselves to be open without looking like that was what they were doing. A slave, after all, had been the one to help them on Tatooine, and so they would help the one that helped them.

If that meant that they could help others _through_ her. Well…that was a different topic altogether, and certainly just a bonus. This was in all ways, after all, a different situation to the one on Pijal. This was different to the Czerka debacle where they had been able to act much more…aggressively, and this would allow them the freedom to work.

“I do think that this is something that would be doable,” Master Tiin agreed, bowing his heavy head. “We have the ability to act with connections we otherwise would not have.”

“Vos has often reported that the most difficult thing has always been making connections,” Master Piell added, a frown curling his mouth. “ _If_ they deem us trustworthy…”

“I’m in favor,” Mace said with little preamble, which started a brief round of votes.

Nearly unanimous with the naysays being worried about bringing war upon all of them. So, they would be careful.

And they would be smart.

They had some new orders for Master Jinn.

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn got off the comm with a feeling of satisfaction rising in his chest. Perhaps mixed with a bit too much ‘about time’ and other not entirely polite feelings. Qui-Gon meditated upon them for a moment, and then let them go. Qui-Gon knew very well exactly why it had taken such a long time for them to be able to come to this decision. He remembered talking to the Council himself, to Obi-Wan. There was so much tangled within what should be simple, and that worried him.

But they were finally going to be in a position to do something, hopefully, right underneath notice. It was merely on Tatooine, but it was a start. Qui-Gon would see about coming up with ideas elsewhere. For now, however, Qui-Gon was waiting for landing clearance to be given. He had made it to Naboo what felt like hours ago and was still waiting for permission to land. On one hand, Qui-Gon felt he understood.

On the other… Qui-Gon had been invited by the Queen. Surely that would amount to something…

“ _Master Jedi_ ,” came a sudden voice, younger and distinctly more feminine than he would have expected. “ _You are cleared to land in docking bay two, we are sorry for your wait_.”

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon said, and followed instructions, landing in the bay whose coordinates were sent to him. Upon landing, Qui-Gon got out of his Delta-7 and found his escort was not who he had at first expected, but the sight made a secretive smile curl his mouth. 

There were two girls standing before him, each of them dressed in the traditional clothing of the Naboo Handmaidens, their flame-colored robes resplendent.

“Master Jedi,” the one on the right said, and Qui-Gon recognized that he was looking at the Decoy. He recognized her signature, the burn of loyalty and compassion, the pride in what she was doing. “The Queen apologizes for your delay, but she is currently in…discussion with Captain Panaka. He did not wish to admit you.”

“So, we did it for him,” the other girl said, her mouth in a curled smile that was full of mischief. “Under the Queen’s orders, of course.”

“If you will follow us, we will take you to where the Queen will meet you.”

Qui-Gon bowed his head regally and followed them. As they led him, they talked quietly to him, telling him where he was going, and Qui-Gon listened to them intently. Qui-Gon understood the trust that they were giving him, the fact that in doing this for the Queen she was allowing him to see into the inner workings of her defense. It was a gift that Qui-Gon would respect and a trust that he would honor.

They finally led him into a sitting room where he was soon joined by two other handmaids, and finally one more, the Queen and her Guard right behind them.

The Handmaids blended into the wall, and Qui-Gon made a note to get their names.

“Master Jedi,” Queen Amidala intoned, Padmé’s voice holding the regal empty tone that held no emotion as she greeted him, but her gaze held all of the strength and warmth that Qui-Gon had noticed in her. The same strength that had made him initially agree to let the young woman come with him into Mos Espa. The same strength that had rallied the people of Naboo, had brought the Gungans to peace.

“Your highness,” Qui-Gon returned, bowing. “I was wondering if perhaps we could have this conversation in private?”

Qui-Gon did not particularly think that it needed to be done in private. But it was worth saying so in order to watch the Captain turn an alarming shade of puce.

“We may,” Queen Amidala returned before her Captain could say otherwise, and the look she gave him was firm. Captain Panaka frowned, bowed, and then left with his guards. Qui-Gon could feel them setting up along the hall, that they had not left. But they were no longer in the room, and at their absence the Queen allowed herself to drop most of the trappings of Amidala, until Padmé sat before him.

“Hello, Master Jinn,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s good to see you.”

“It is good to see you as well,” Qui-Gon bowed, “before we continue, is it possible that I may get the names of the women that have led me here?”

“Yes,” Padmé nodded to her handmaidens who stepped forward.

“My name is Sabé,” the now-named Decoy said.

“Rabé,” the one that had been with her nodded and there was that amused expression on her face, the one that spoke to hidden knowledge. Qui-Gon did not doubt it.

“Eirtaé,” the one that spoke then had led Padmé, and her smile was warm. She was also the only handmaiden that had blue eyes. 

“Yané,” she bowed her head, and the look in her eyes was mischievous. Qui-Gon recognized that it was her voice that he had heard over the comm telling him which docking bay to use.

“Saché,” and this one was the youngest, but she did not hold herself as such. Qui-Gon remembered her. The twelve-year-old girl who had withstood torture and interrogation to keep her people safe.

There was no doubt that Padmé and her entourage had been put under a trial by fire, and they had all come out on the other side. Qui-Gon bowed, “It is good to know you by name. I thank you for your service.”

It was obvious that it startled them, but the smiles they gave him were warm.

“I have come because the Jedi need your help,” Qui-Gon said finally, turning to Queen Amidala, who straightened, her expression falling into the mask. “You received my holotransmission, you know what I am after.”

“I do,” she agreed. “And I have prepared much to see that we can grant Shmi Skywalker’s freedom. But I…” she took a breath. “I have a request of my own.”

“Name it,” Qui-Gon returned.

“Please see to it that you use my assets to free as many as possible.”

Qui-Gon smiled at her warmly. “My Queen, we have had a few changes of plan. Do you have time for me to brief you?”

“Please, Master Jedi.”

And so, Qui-Gon told her of the plan, and the Queen listened, and there was a light of something sharp and something cunning shining within her eyes. The Jedi had found themselves an ally, and Qui-Gon could not be happier.

* * *

Maul had finished eating breakfast and was idly thumbing through the flimsi, taking in the titles for the first time since they had been placed before him. It appeared as though there were several like the ones Plo had talked about and he frowned at them before setting them off to the side. He put them next to the plant, another strange symbol of the Jedi’s odd method of imprisonment.

And then he heard another voice, and Maul closed his eyes, and desperately longed for a weapon. His legs, his legs for a fucking weapon and a way out…

Maul let his head bow for a moment and then finally walked over to the middle of the floor and sat down. He was not going to show weakness.

Maul watched as the smaller brat and the brat entered, and finally came before him. The smaller one was grinning from ear to ear and Maul had no idea how to feel about it. Had no idea how to deal with the smile that was fixed on him.

“Good morning, Darth Maul,” the smaller brat chirped, his name given its proper title, and Maul narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s good to see you!”

Maul…had no idea how to respond to that.

“I’m happy to have your name,” he continued, and paused for a moment, before looking to the Brat and finally, quietly, “your lightsaber is really cool.”

Maul blinked. He didn’t remember the smaller brat even seeing it fully. Maul had sensed him when he attacked the Master-without-Honor with the one side, and the smaller brat had been hiding within a cockpit, before he wound up going against the Destroyers the second time he had confronted them… Maul wondered idly what had happened with the rest of the battle. He had little doubt that the Naboo peoples had won, but the how escaped him.

It was not worth asking about.

“Well…” the smaller brat hedged, his voice quiet, uncertain, “I think it has to be cool. I haven’t seen it, but…it’s really double-sided? It has two blades?”

Maul tilted his head in an acknowledgement he couldn’t help. He didn’t understand this at all.

“How does it work? Why did you make it with two blades? Is that hard to use? How do you keep from cutting your own leg off?”

Maul said nothing, for a moment completely baffled how to even begin. 

“Goodness, Anakin, one at a time, give him some time to breathe,” the Brat said, laughing aloud.

“Sorry,” Anakin grinned, “I’ve just been so curious! I’ve seen the crystals in Obi-Wan’s and Qui-Gon’s sabers, is there just the one crystal in yours?”

The Brat’s expression fell, but he stared at Maul with eyes that dared him to speak, dared him to tell how many Jedi he had killed for his crystals. Maul sneered at him, and quietly, easily, “Six.”

The Brat closed his eyes as though pained, even as the boy breathed out, “Wizard. How’d you get so many?”

Maul sneered at the Jedi, and as he looked at him, he realized that the braid that had marked him as Padawan had been cut away. The Brat was a Knight now, and Maul wondered if it had something to do with him. Either way he let his lips curl, let the Jedi imagine that he had killed six, or three, or four. However many lives he thought would take to get the crystals within his blade. How many he would have to _bleed_.

The smaller brat seemed to understand that there was something he was not getting, he looked between for a few moments, his enthusiasm fading. “How…did you get so many?”

Maul kept staring at the Brat, waiting for him to cave, waiting for him to…

“He…” the Brat started softly, “ _killed_ for them. The Sith…bleed their crystals.”

Maul enjoyed the horror on the smaller brat’s face for a moment, let himself bask in it before he finally laughed. The expression on the smaller brat’s face was hilarious, and he only laughed harder, before finally he shook his head, smirking at the Brat.

“Foolish,” he said easily, “to think that the Sith would be so dependent on you for the tools of your own destruction. I did not bleed them. They are _mine_. I made them.” The Brat stared at him with wide eyes, and Maul leaned forward. “But that is not to say that I have not killed your ilk.”

“But…” the Brat looked as though he was unsure whether or not to ask him about the ones that Maul had killed or asking how such a feat was done. Maul would not answer either question, but it was amusing to watch his worry, the concern on his face. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “I did not know that you could create…they are _synthetic_?”

Maul said nothing else, he just smirked.

“I’m…glad they’re synthetic,” the smaller brat said, before looking to the Brat, “you could have told me that it wasn’t wizard when I initially said that it was cool, if you thought that he’d killed for them.”

“You are, of course, right,” the Brat nodded, “but I suppose you are still allowed to think that it is wizard, and in the end, there was no harm done.”

“Yeah!” the smaller brat seemed alright with ignoring the deaths that he had caused.

Maul did not understand.

“Why did you decide on a double-bladed one? Does it have a different name than a lightsaber?”

“Saberstaff,” the Brat answered for him.

“Shh, Obi-Wan, I asked _him_ ,” the smaller brat complained, putting his hands on the Brat’s mouth. The Brat grinned at him.

“Apologies,” he said, though he did not look sorry in the least.

Maul said nothing.

“How _do_ you go about not cutting your own leg off?” the smaller brat repeated an earlier question, his nose wrinkling. “The blades aren’t weighted, right? That’s got to be so hard to keep track of…”

Maul said nothing.

“And you fought both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon…you have to be amazing!”

Maul fought very hard not to preen, he also wrinkled his nose. He did not know how to react to the way they talked to him. It felt like they were trying to get something from him, and Maul would not give it. It was suspicious and unnecessary and put him on edge. All of these empty words, these praises, these…

It was not just these two, but the old troll, Yoda, and then _Koon_? Plo gave Maul his _name_ ; Maul did not understand. Maul was a monster, Maul was a weapon, Maul was their _death_.

Maul had no idea what they wanted from him and that made him angry. It felt like a trap, a trick, and Maul was not foolish enough to talk about it.

He had done enough talking. He was done.

Maul turned around and walked to the refresher, not out of any need but simply to put distance between himself and these words.

Maul thought he heard the smaller brat’s voice lower in something like disappointment, but whatever the Brat answered was lost in the sound of a comm chiming.

Maul heard the two of them leave to take the call, and slowly allowed himself to sink to the ground.

Maul did not understand.

He _hated_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me, I hope to have the next one out sooner. Keep safe everyone, I love you all~


	6. Mothers and Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shmi is Free. 
> 
> Maul is in a book club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! It was a bit shorter wait than the last time I posted it LOL! The word count is starting to creep up there. I have a bit more Slave Culture here, as well as talk of types of slaves, rehabilitation, and death. I do not think that there will be a lot of Shmi freeing people in this particular story, but I am planning on writing a series of interludes which will depict things like the actual freedom trails, Anakin's conversation with Padme and Qui-Gon and all of those other things. As it is I'm afraid it would feel a bit like padding, but that is still something I'm probably going to post out there at some point, so maybe keep an eye out for that. My story within a story was really kind of fun to think up, and I hope you like it LOL. I got me some. Heavy parallels. 
> 
> Other notes, other notes... OH my god Guys, Watto was a fucking pain. I read his EU biography and...guys, I have never been more conflicted about a person. I struggled for a long time with how Watto was going to handle Shmi and I think I managed to hit that very difficult nail. At least I hope so. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I'm really happy with this guys, I'm not going to lie. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Warning: Tissues.

Shmi Skywalker listened with half an ear as Watto ranted quietly, long practice meaning that she could focus when needed and tune it out when it was not.

At the moment, it was not needed.

At the moment, it only hurt.

Watto had discovered through a series of hard knocks that Anakin…that her little Ani, had been more than worth his weight in wupiupi, and the fact that she knew what that weight _was_ sit in her gut like a lead weight. Slavery put a number on all of them, and her son’s number had been a high one. Watto had taken to muttering whenever he was forced to do his own repairs, repairs that could have taken Ani half of a day often took Watto a week. Anakin’s ability to get good deals from other traders had also been lost, though Shmi did her best.

C3PO had been helpful, more helpful than she had anticipated in this manner at least, being able to translate words that she would not know, being able to figure out what was a better buy. However, sometimes the pressure she applied wasn’t enough, and the deal was less than it should have been. Watto despaired of this, but outside of yelling had not done anything to take it out on her.

Watto seemed to recognize that she was in mourning for her son. It was a fact that she was unsure how to react to, and so she never truly prodded at it.

Shmi _couldn’t_. 

The work was almost a comfort to her, forcing her fingers to work and focus her attention on something other than the empty room.

Shmi had known that her son was meant to go on to bigger and better things, that he would be a Jedi, that his Destiny was _out there_ … But that did not stop her from missing him. Though something else had started over the last few weeks, something that had given her another distraction. 

A man had started to frequent Watto’s shop.

She had seen him around Mos Espa before, often in the background, but he had a solid presence and the rumor around the Slave Quarters was the fact that he was kind, and good for a favor if you asked.

It was a rare thing. No one in Mos Espa gave a favor for free. No one but him..

Of course, the fact that it was a man visiting would not have been such an interesting thing, even with the favors…

Were it not for the fact that he was trying to buy her from Watto.

Shmi had had no inkling at first that that was what he had wanted. He had been kind when he spoke to her, asking her questions and generally treating her with respect, asking her opinions on what they sold, but there had been no talk initially of buying her. And then he had come back later with an offer.

Watto was a large fluttering presence after that, never leaving the two of them alone together and always eyeing him with a very critical glare.

The Kiffer took to this with great amusement, turning several winks his way and laughing at Watto whenever he got flustered. Shmi had warmed to the man gradually, but it wasn’t until she had heard from others that had more contact with him that he was as genuine as he seemed.

Watto had been critical from the start, though that look had faded as the man’s offer had gotten bigger, very _carefully_ bigger, as the weeks went on. And then Watto had looked at her.

Watto was an odd one, had always been so, full of mercurial moods and anger, but he was never physically abusive. Though it was his right as their owner and he had a tendency to threaten, he had never once touched them.

The realization that Shmi was thinking of her Ani under his hand as well stabbed her like a knife, and Shmi looked down, closing her eyes. He wasn’t here.

“Are you alright?” the Kiffer asked softly, and Shmi looked to the man named Quinlan Vos with a mixture of surprise and thanks.

“I am,” she said softly.

Vos eyed her in a way that looked a bit as though he did not believe her, but he did not press, merely gave her a smile, and turned back to Watto.

Shmi wondered. She wondered, if Vos _did_ buy her, what kind of Master would he be? And then, as usual, her thoughts wandered to how Anakin was, how his training was going. She wondered if they were feeding him right. She wondered if he was _happy_. She wondered if he was thinking of her.

And then she told herself to stop. Ani was where he was meant to be.

She _knew_ he was where he was meant to be. Shmi would go on as she had, would help where she was needed, and she would serve her Master, whoever that might be. Vos did not seem as though he would be a bad Master. Outside of the fact that he asked her opinion directly and seemed to care, the outside reputation had been what had convinced her.

Even then, Shmi knew that she could not be overly maudlin.

Her Ani would not have wanted that.

And she had work to do.

It took two weeks of steady escalation and visits by Vos for Watto to finally sit before her and ask her what _she_ wanted.

Shmi stared at Watto quietly, unable to comprehend for a moment. Watto shifted slightly, frowning.

“Look, I know that… I know that a lot has happened, yeah? I know that you miss your boy and that change right now could be…difficult… But Vos’ offer is a good one.” Watto rubbed the back of his neck, fluttering his wings idly as he sat in front of her. “But I don’t want to just…throw you away, yeah?” He huffed a sigh. “You’re still good here . But I know that Vos is… _new_ , and it might prove a better distraction than here could be. Would it be best for you, do you think?”

Shmi was quiet for a long time, thinking. This was not a choice that she had thought would ever be given to her. Gardulla had lost her in a bet, her son had been taken from her in a bet – won by his own skill, and now here she was with the question of _did she want to be sold_ hanging in front of her.

Did she want to go with Vos, who was said to be kind and would give away a favor, but was just another Master, or did she want to stay with Watto.

Did she want to stay in the place her son’s feet had walked since he was small? Did she want to stay in the place his hands had worked their magic?

Did she want to stay?

Shmi sat there and thought for a long time, and Watto remained quiet, an odd flutter of his wings here and there, but ultimately gave no words, no attempts to speed her decision along. Ultimately, what had she said to her son? What had she said to Ani when he stood looking up at her with his bag hanging down by his side, looking up at her with those eyes that _begged_ her to ask him to stay?

Don’t look back.

Shmi closed her eyes.

“Sell me,” she said softly. “But let me contact my son first.”

“Deal,” Watto returned, and held out his hand. She smacked it, the deal was sealed, and she stood up feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Shmi was going to leave Watto.

She was not going to look back.

Shmi had stood, but before she could do much more than adjust her clothing back into place, Vos peeked through. He was wincing slightly as though he expected to be yelled at, but he was pointing at his…

“I’m sorry!” he called out as Shmi held up his walking stick that he had left behind, “I’m having one of those days today, I swear. I left my wallet on the transport on the way up here if you can believe it, but…”

“You have yourself a deal, Vos,” Watto interrupted, never one for letting business remain unfinished for long.

“I…” Vos blinked, looking at him in confusion.

“I’ll take what you’re offering. Shmi Skywalker has agreed to go with you. You have yourself a deal…”

Vos blinked, and then he smiled, and the smile was warm and bright and relieved. “Oh, thank you so much!”

“Yeah, I expect your goods to be here before I’ll release her to you,” Watto frowned, “But you have to let her contact her boy! That’s my final demand, and I’ll see to it you follow!”

“Nothing would make me happier than to let Shmi talk to her son,” Vos returned immediately, putting a hand to his heart. “Thank you both. I’ll get your goods, Watto, and then I expect her chip deactivated.”

“Deal,” Watto nodded, holding his hand out. There was another smack, and Vos left.

Shmi stood there for a moment, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath. She had been sold. She was going onto different things.

Shmi thought of her son and knew that it was the right thing to do.

Before the sun had crested the highest point in the sky Vos’ goods had been delivered and Shmi was standing before her new Master, who was looking at the transmitter for the slave chip that was within her as though it might bite him. It was an odd way for a Master to look.

Vos soon seemed to shake himself out of it and gathered her and her belongings that they had packed and carefully helped her into the landspeeder with him. Watto’s part in paying for her small home had been removed, and Vos had promised her that there would be another home for her. She had packed everything she owned, C3PO sat in the back of the speeder deactivated, and the small bundles that contained her work and her life sat next to him. They soon set off and Shmi let herself be taken to the next chapter of her life. It was only fitting that her son should leave and Shmi would as well.

There was no reason for her to stay.

She closed her eyes, for a moment letting herself relax in the feeling of moving, in something _new_ happening, and then she turned her attention to Vos. He seemed…pleased, almost… _satisfied_ , perhaps, and Shmi found herself glad. Watto had been a hard to please Master, Vos at least seemed as though he was going to be much easier to keep content.

It did not take long until Shmi began to wonder, though, where he was taking her. They were heading further towards the Wastes, and Shmi was beginning to take more notice, paying attention to where they were going, wondering whether or not she would need to attempt to escape – for some things were worse than a sudden, explosive death - and then he stopped the landspeeder just past the first couple dunes, and took a breath.

“I have not been entirely honest with you,” he said finally, looking to her. “I do not intend to keep you.”

Shmi’s chin tilted back and she stared down her nose at him, “What do you mean?”

“I…” Vos closed his eyes, and then looked to the transmitter he was holding. He worked with it for a moment, carefully fiddling with tools and fingers, before it finally gave off a soft beep. 

It had been deactivated.

Shmi did not move.

“I had meant to tell you a long time ago,” Vos said, his voice apologetic, “but we weren’t entirely sure if Watto would sell you _just_ to _free_ you, and we thought if he knew who I was working with, he might just refuse to sell you on principle, right? But…”

“Who are you working with?” Shmi asked with numb lips.

“Me,” came a familiar baritone, and Shmi turned. Qui-Gon Jinn was standing next to the landspeeder, having appeared as if from out of nowhere, and Shmi thought she was going to faint.

“Qui-Gon,” she whispered, nearly falling out of the speeder. He caught her, righting her, and she stared at him, before looking to Vos, and her heart was beating so fast and… “What is happening?”

“We’re freeing you,” Vos answered, grinning.

“You’re no longer a slave,” Qui-Gon said softly, his words a perfect echo of what had been told to her son what felt like so long ago.

Shmi started weeping and it was a long time until the tears stopped, but it was the best cry she had ever had, a Jedi holding her tightly, and who she suspected was another Jedi pressing his hand on her back gently.

Vos pulled back once she stopped weeping, his hand fisting, looking away, but he smiled when her attention came back to him. “Are _you_ a Jedi, Master Vos?”

“Please, please, _Quinlan_ ,” he said, holding his hands up as though to ward the word off, “ _please_ call me Quinlan. After this I don’t think I want anyone calling me Master.”

“And what about Aayla?” Qui-Gon asked him, his voice amused.

“…It doesn’t mean the same thing,” Quinlan retorted.

“It does not,” Qui-Gon agreed, smiling, “but yes, he is a Jedi. He is one of our few presences on Tatooine.”

“We send a few now and again,” Quinlan said, “hoping we’ll get the go ahead from the Republic to free slaves, but so far it hasn’t come.”

“Which…” Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, “Your son helped us free you,” he said finally, which Shmi didn’t think he had been about to say, but the words were enough to distract her.

“How is he?” she asked, “Is he here, did he come?”

“No,” Qui-Gon returned, shaking his head. “But he is doing well the last time I talked to him, and he has been waiting to talk to you. My Padawan, Obi-Wan completed his Trials, and he is tutoring him.”

“Obi-Wan,” Shmi repeated, vaguely remembering hearing him mentioned. “He is now a Jedi? Is he Anakin’s Master?”

“No,” Qui-Gon shook his head again. “I’m sure this is very confusing, but I assure you I don’t mean to be cryptic. Please, if you will come this way, you’ll be able to talk to your son directly. He’s been wanting to talk to you for a very long time. He will explain what has been happening.”

Shmi thought she might die of happiness right then and there. The only thing that kept her alive was the prospect of talking to her boy.

They took her over the nearest dune which revealed a ship that had been stashed just out of sight. It was a Nubian model, familiar… Naboo.

“Queen Amidala, you might remember her as Padmé, helped provide the collateral to free you,” Qui-Gon confirmed her thoughts, and Shmi found herself smiling as wide as possible.

The little girl who had sat at her table had been _Queen_. The little girl so horrified by slavery had sought to free her.

Shmi did not think that she could have had a better day, but when Qui-Gon patched through to the Temple, and a short while later the face of her boy, _her_ _boy_ appeared in the hologram before her, Shmi knew that she would be remembering this day for the rest of her life.

Shmi knew that she would treasure it always. Quinlan and Qui-Gon both left her alone, and the only thing left around her was the blue of the hologram. 

Shmi sat before her son, and her heart was full.

* * *

Anakin was buzzing with happiness.

Obi-Wan had taken him to a private comm room, and told him that his mother was waiting for him, and as soon as the door shut and the comm came on, Anakin was suddenly awash in the blue glow that showed his mother.

“Mom,” he breathed.

“ _Hi, baby_ ,” she said softly, her voice the balm he had been missing for so long…

“Mom, I…” he took a breath, and wiped at his face, surprised to find tears there.

“ _Oh, Ani, are you okay? Are they treating you right_ …?”

“Yes, yes mom, I’m sorry, I’m not…I just…” he wiped his eyes, smiling weakly, “I _missed_ you,” he said softly. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“ _I’m so happy to see you, too, Ani_ ,” she said softly. “ _Oh, baby don’t cry. This is a happy time_.”

“I’m so glad to see you,” Anakin said softly. “I’m so happy, I just… I missed you. It’s been so different here.”

“ _Has it been good_?”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded. “They’ve all been so kind to me, and so…” he wiped his face again, trying to think of the words. He had so many, but now that he was in front of his mother, they all seemed to have gone away. “They’ve all been so good to me. They use a different form of Master, mom, they mean it as though they’ve Mastered their crat, like…like they are going to teach me how to have power so I can have the ability to teach others to be like me. It’s respectful, but it…it’s not the same.”

“ _They have lessons for you, and they are ahead of you in knowledge_ ,” Shmi nodded, “ _it makes sense that they would have you call them Master_.”

“But…they make me call them Teacher,” Anakin said softly, almost whispering the words, like it would make them take it away. His mom brightened, her gaze surprised, before she smiled, and the look was warm.

“ _I am glad_ ,” she said softly. “ _You have been chosen as an Apprentice, then? Who is your Teacher_?”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, swallowing. “Mom,” he said softly. “I haven’t…I haven’t started to learn how to be a Jedi yet.”

His mother blinked, before she looked at him, “ _Anakin, I don’t understand. This is what you wanted; this was your dream_ …”

“But…but they mentioned that dreams aren’t always accurate,” he said softly. “That the reality is often so much more complicated and so much more difficult and…and they are… It _is_. Being a Jedi is…it’s so much more than I thought it was, and in some ways it’s so much better, but…”

“ _Tell me about it, Anakin_ ,” his mother said softly, “ _what’s making you hesitate_?”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment, his head bowed. “It’s not freedom, mom,” he said softly. “Not…not in the way that I thought it would be. I might not be able to come back and free everyone. I have to…I have to trust the Force, to learn how to listen to it. I have to swear myself to _service_. I have to abide by the Republic and its rules. But they all do that,” he said softly. “They all swear themselves to serve.” He paused, “And sometimes it seems the only thing that makes it not slavery is…is the fact that they _choose_.” Anakin wiped his eyes, frustrated, trying to articulate the words that had built up within him. “But…but I want to help people, I always have. As a Jedi I’d be able to help so many. I just…they promised, mom, they promised that even if I decided not to be a Jedi I would still… That they’d free you and that I’d be able to go _back_ , that they’d make sure we had enough money that we could live _anywhere_. They said they’d trust the Force, that if I…if I’m meant to be a Jedi…” He shook his head, looking at his mother as tears slowly started sliding down his face. “I don’t know what to do, mom. They promised me something I always wanted but…I want to be a Jedi. I want to help people. It’s my _dream_ , mom… It’s just so _hard_ …”

His mom was quiet for a long moment, taking all of this in, and Anakin waited patiently, wiping his eyes. He wanted to be able to hug her, but the fact that she was sitting there in front of him, the fact that she was _there_ … Anakin idly wondered if Obi-Wan would hug him if he asked.

“ _Dreams are never as sweet as they seem_ ,” his mom said finally, quietly. “ _But that does not mean that the reality can’t be better than what we have dreamed. Dry your eyes, baby, I’m here.”_ She said softly, and Anakin did as he was told, taking a deep breath and letting it out. _“You are right in that it is likely going to be harder, but I am curious, did they tell you why_?”

“There’s a lot of stuff that they have to do, mom,” Anakin answered, wiping his eyes. “They have to control their emotions, and…and let go of attachments.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because attachments and emotions can both be dangerous for a Jedi. They can make us lose control, and…and turn to the Dark Side.”

“ _What is the Dark Side_?”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, thinking. “It felt like an open wound,” he said finally.

“ _It_ felt _like_?” his mom questioned. “ _Ani, when did you get a chance to feel the Dark Side_?”

“Oh,” Anakin straightened, “that’s something else I wanted to tell you about.” 

“ _Then we will leave that alone for now_ ,” his mom said softly, waving her hand, “ _let’s concentrate on why it is hard_.”

Anakin nodded. “It can be dangerous for a Jedi, and if we fall to the Dark Side, we can be dangerous to other people.”

“ _So, your power has consequences if it is used improperly_ ,” his mom said softly, “ _all power does_.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, blinking, taking this in for a moment. He hadn’t thought of it like that. Anakin had been so busy thinking about the Jedi as helpers that he hadn’t thought of the fact that they had _power_. He had been worried about them as ‘Master,’ but he hadn’t truly considered what it was to have all of that power. They were literally able to lift things with their minds, to control thoughts, to do impossible things beyond any normal human. Put in that light, Anakin could begin to see why they’d spend so much time finding ways to keep from becoming a huge _threat_. If the Dark Side, if the _Sith_ were what happened when power was pursued over everything, and if their power was unchecked…

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Anakin said softly. “I just…” he frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. They haven’t…they didn’t really put it like that…”

“ _They probably haven’t thought to explain the why’s of the situation. The Jedi Order is an old one, old Orders have long memories… I wouldn’t doubt that they have a lot of rules that are steeped in good reasoning, but they have not had to explain in a long time_.”

“They were talking about how I was too old…” Anakin said brightening, straightening slightly as he looked to his mom. “They take new Jedi as babies, mostly, I think… I think it’s because it’s so hard to let go of attachments…” Anakin was quiet, looking at his mom for a long time. “No one here knows who their parents were, no one…there was one, but he…” Anakin frowned. “Qui-Gon said that I wouldn’t be destined to make the same mistakes. But he was five when he was chosen, and he refused to fit in, and…and he wound up killing his Padawan. She had been hit with a dart that controlled her, but…but Qui-Gon, and I think, too, that it was the wrong thing to do. He should have knocked her out, or done something else…”

“ _Do you think you would become like this Jedi_?”

Anakin was quiet for a moment. “No,” he said finally, shaking his head, and then his mom asked him the hardest question she could have.

“ _Do_ _you think you can let go of_ me _, Anakin_?” 

Anakin closed his eyes, for the longest time not saying anything. “But I wouldn’t have to,” he said finally. “If…if I don’t decide to be a Jedi, we can…we can be free, together. We can go and…” he sniffed. “We could be together.”

“ _And what can I teach you about your gifts, Anakin_?” his mom asked softly. “ _What can I teach you_?”

“So much, you’ve already taught me _so much_ ,” Anakin responded, shaking his head. “They said that if I am the Chosen One, that if I _am_ supposed to bring balance, then they can trust in the Force to send me on the right path.”

“ _Then what does the Force tell you, Anakin_?” his mom asked, “ _what does your_ heart _tell you_?”

Anakin closed his eyes, curling up slightly, and slowly began to cry. He knew what his heart was telling him.

“ _Anakin_ ,” his mom said softly, “ _they set me free, Anakin. I am_ free _. I will look to the stars, Anakin, and I will know that you are out there, and you are doing so many_ wonderful _things. I will know that my son is alive and has been taught how to use his abilities to help people to his fullest potential. I will look to the stars, and I will love you_ always _. If you decide to let me go, Anakin, if you set me free, then I will love you all the same. And eventually, if your missions ever take you back to Tatooine, I will take you in my arms, and I will hold you tight. We may not be able to do so for a long time, but we_ will _again. This is not goodbye forever_.”

Anakin felt something in his heart twist, and he bowed forward, squeezing his knees and slowly began to sob. “I’ll always love you,” he whispered. “I will come back eventually, and I’ll be the Jedi you know me to be. I’ll make you _proud_ , mom.”

“ _You’ve always made me proud, baby, and I know that you will continue to do so. My little Jedi, my beautiful boy,_ I am so proud of you.”

Anakin basked in his mother’s words, leaning against the holoprojector and listening to her voice shush him, until he had no more tears to shed, and his resolve had firmed into duracrete.

Anakin would be a Jedi.

“I’m going to be a Jedi,” he said, looking to his mom. “I’m going to be a Jedi.”

“ _You will be_ ,” Shmi nodded. “ _Will Obi-Wan be your Master_?”

“Qui-Gon will be my Teacher,” Anakin shook his head, “but Obi-Wan will be my brother. There’s lineage here, mom, we’re brothers and sisters in the Force! Qui-Gon’s teacher was Count Dooku, and his Master was Yoda. He’s the Grand Master of the _entire_ Order.”

“ _Sounds like you have an impressive Lineage you are going into_ ,” his mom smiled. “ _You’ll live up to it beautifully_.”

Anakin ducked his head, smiling. Trust his mom to hit the thing that was bothering him before he even thought of it.

“ _How do you feel_?” his mom asked softly.

“Good, mom,” he said smiling. “I feel really good. I feel…like I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

“ _I’m glad_ ,” she said, and her voice was warm, and her smile was beautiful. His mom had the most beautiful smile. “ _Now, baby_ ,” she straightened, “ _can you tell me what you meant by you_ felt _the Dark Side_?”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to tell you, mom,” Anakin said then, brightening, his gaze sharp. “The Jedi captured a Slave. His name is Darth Maul – he’s a Dark Side user, they called him a Sith. But…but he’s a slave, he’s like me, like _us_. Like…like we used to be.”

“ _Explain, please, Anakin_.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded, “Darth Maul…”

“ _Is that his full name_?”

“It’s his title as well,” Anakin responded, shaking his head, “his name is Maul, but we’re meant to call him Darth because it’s something he…he won in blood, mom. He deserves to be referred to as that.”

“ _I see_ ,” she nodded, and her voice was starting to become worried, her gaze sharp. “ _What kind of slave is he, Anakin_?” she asked, as though to confirm the thing she feared, and Anakin closed his eyes.

“I…” Anakin took a breath. “I wanted to ask you, mom, about the recipe for the Liquor of the Sands.”

His mom stiffened, her gaze sharp. “ _He is a Blood Slave then_ ,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Anakin nodded, swallowing. “But he is…he doesn’t _know_ any better. I’ve heard him talk, mom. He doesn’t know he’s a slave. He doesn’t know what they did to him.”

His mom was quiet for a long time. “ _Bring Obi-Wan, I will get Quinlan and Qui-Gon. I believe they must all be present for this_.”

Anakin nodded, and then ran from the room, skidding to a stop in front of Obi-Wan, who had been sitting at the end of the hall on a comfortable-looking bench holding a datapad. “Anakin,” he said, setting the datapad down next to him, “are you alright?”

“Mom wants to talk to you, she’s bringing Qui-Gon and Quinlan, she’s going to talk to us about the Blood Slave.”

“ _Blood_ Slave?” Obi-Wan asked, blinking.

“Darth Maul,” Anakin responded immediately, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to the room. “He’s a Blood Slave, his Master wants Blood, and so Darth Maul pays with it, bathes in it. It’s…not exactly the most creative name, but it’s what they _are_ , they bring forth Blood.”

Obi-Wan walked faster, keeping pace with him easily. “I see,” he said quietly. “It does make sense.”

“Course it does,” Anakin responded, rolling his eyes at Obi-Wan and pulling him in the room. He spotted Qui-Gon standing in the holo, as well as the one he thought must be ‘Quinlan’. “You’re Master Quinlan then?”

Quinlan gave a sharp wince, “ _Please, please, just Quinlan, I just…I bought your mother today and even though I_ freed _her I’m still scraping the awful feeling from my insides. I’ve never bought a person before, utterly repulsive_.”

Anakin beamed at him. “The bargaining strategy worked?” he asked, bubbling.

“ _It did_ ,” Quinlan nodded. “ _He bought it just like you said he would. It worked well, and he should have enough droids that he won’t have to buy another being_.”

Anakin took that in, his eyes closing, and finally smiled. “Thank you.”

“ _No, thank you for talking us through it_ ,” Quinlan shook his head. “ _I wouldn’t have been able to get through it if you hadn’t given us the directions and told us what we should give him_.”

“ _You helped them free me_?” his mom asked, looking to him.

“Of course, mom, they asked me. They didn’t know what they were doing, so…” Anakin smiled. “I taught them.”

His mom beamed at him, before her look turned somber. “ _Anakin tells me that you have captured a Blood Slave_.” 

“ _Blood Slave_?” Quinlan asked.

“A slave that gives blood to his Master,” Obi-Wan answered for Anakin, “one that bathes in it and pays it to his Master that calls for it.”

“ _I see_ ,” Qui-Gon said softly.

Anakin sat back, softly proud of his mother as she began to speak, falling silent and letting her talk to these outsiders, to explain to them the nature of what they had to do. It was her place. Anakin would do his part here to make sure they did it _right_.

“ _I will give you the recipe for the Liquor of the Sands, and I will also talk you through what you must do. He warned me that the Slave does not know that that is what he is, and this…this makes him especially dangerous. This Darth Maul can be rehabilitated, but it will take time, and it will take a lot of care. You must be certain that this is what you wish to do before you make the attempt, because he will find ways to rebel, and he will find ways to cause harm_.”

“He is quite secure,” Obi-Wan said, frowning, “we have him behind a ray shield and in Force-Inhibitor collar. He can’t get out.”

His mom looked Obi-Wan in the eye through the holo, her gaze sharp enough to cut. “ _Do not underestimate him,”_ she said softly. “ _Those that have learned how to bring forth Blood for their Masters will bring it forth however they can, and it will be to your detriment if you do not take heed of this. You must pay attention to him. You_ must _be wary_.”

“ _We will be_ ,” Qui-Gon agreed with a nod, Obi-Wan also nodding in a chagrined manner. “ _What must we do_?”

“ _Your first order of business is to get him to realize that he is a slave. This will take time, and you may despair of it, but it must be done first. If you are out of order you will heighten the likelihood that he will rebel in a way that will lead to blood_.” His mom frowned. “ _You can still talk to him, and engage with him, and I recommend you do this often, but you must make him realize that he is a slave. Blood Slaves often find this more difficult to learn, particularly those that are reared from birth. They have not known anything different, so they will not be as able to see what has been done to them_. _They are stronger than any other Slave, but they are also the most trapped. Their chains are internal and their existence is often hard to prove_.”

“We do not think it was from birth,” Obi-Wan said.

“ _Sith do not usually take Apprentices from birth_ ,” Quinlan explained. “ _They take the disgruntled members of society and turn them to the Dark_.”

“ _We believe that he was a bounty hunter_ ,” Qui-Gon frowned. “ _At least that’s what he said, and Plo believes he was telling the truth. Though_ …” Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, “ _it may have been a half-truth._ ”

“ _I would recommend that you treat it as though it has been from birth_ ,” his mom shook her head, her voice heavy. “ _If you do not and it is, then you will find yourself struggling to catch up_.”

“How do we handle this?”

“ _Show him_ kindness,” his mom answered. “ _Show him how you treat your Apprentices, show him how you talk to each other, the respect and dignity you afford each other_.”

“He is _Sith_ , though,” Obi-Wan pointed out, frowning, “that already means he’s less likely to pay attention to how we treat each other because he thinks that we…well, we’re weak. We just coddle our Apprentices.”

“ _Prove him wrong_ ,” his mom returned softly. “ _If you can show that you are strong, that you are able to stand up to his…Order_?” she questioned.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon nodded.

“ _That you can stand up to his Order_ ,” his mom continued with her own nod, “ _then you can show him that the way he has been treated is wrong. He likely will have no frame of reference, and the more frames of reference he can see the better off you will be. Introduce him to flimsis, to holodramas, anything where he can see the way that strength is represented, how_ kindness _is represented, and he will learn._ ”

“ _There is an issue with this, though_ ,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “ _The Sith way is to teach through pain. To a Sith, pain is power. He will likely understand the way that he has been treated as the only way to have taught him how to_ be _a Sith_.”

His mom was quiet for a long moment, taking this in. “ _Ask him whether he was given a choice before that pain was given. Ask him whether his Master illustrated that he went through the same pain to him. If to be Sith is to receive pain, ask him why his Master did not do the same_.”

Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan, who was grinning at that point, Quinlan chuckling quietly. “ _That is a_ very _good series of questions_ ,” Quinlan nodded. “ _Have you used this method often_?”

“ _We have_ ,” his mom nodded. “ _Several times. Blood Slaves are common, and broken Blood Slaves are even more common… But I must tell you that it is always difficult. There were injuries that came out of it, once even a death. You must ask yourself if what you will get out of it is worth the effort that you put in._ ”

“Was it worth it?” Obi-Wan asked. “The one that killed someone, were they worth it?”

His mom was quiet for a long time, before looking to Obi-Wan. “ _The Slaves that help the Blood Slaves are always Slaves that are willing to die. We recognize that there is danger inherent to it, but we also realize that a freed Slave is always worth it. The one that killed a man went on to be one of our_ …” his mom hesitated, closing her eyes, before looking to him, “ _she turned out to be one of the most valuable assets we had on our trails to freedom, and even if she hadn’t been…yes, Obi-Wan, yes she would have been worth it_.” She looked at him quietly, “ _would_ he?”

They were quiet for a moment, before Obi-Wan took a breath, and nodded. “I did not mean…I did not mean offense, nor did I wish to suggest that he would not be himself. It is just…something that I had wondered.”

“ _It is not a bad thing to wonder_ ,” she returned softly. “ _I understand where your question was coming from. The Sith are the natural enemy of your Order, are they not_?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “And I suppose I did not see myself helping to set one free. It is an adjustment, but it is one I am very willing to make.”

“ _As are we all_ ,” Qui-Gon nodded, Quinlan giving his own nod. “ _Someone who has only_ known _violence will only_ give _violence until they know otherwise. It is sound advice and reasoning_.”

“ _You should also expect him to possibly react with violence if he is given too much kindness too soon_ ,” his mom said, her voice soft. “ _This is not something that always happens, but it has before. A part of him might begin to rebel against the kindness because he will not understand it. In some cases, depending on what he was trained for, he may react to this lack of understanding violently, because it puts him on the defensive. They begin to wonder what the catch is_ ,” she said, her gaze firm. “ _You must be careful to always present to him that there is no catch. You are doing this for him_.”

“ _What if he asks why_?” Quinlan asked. “ _What if he challenges the reasoning_?”

“ _Why_ are _you helping him_?” his mom returned.

“Because he deserves to be free,” Obi-Wan answered immediately. “He deserves to be able to make a choice, to…to not live in fear.”

“ _Because he is sentient_ ,” Qui-Gon answered, “ _because he_ is.”

Quinlan nodded agreement, his gaze firm, and Anakin felt his heart slowly swell in his chest in gladness.

“ _Then you tell him that and you prove it to him in whatever way you can_.” 

“We shall,” Quinlan nodded, “ _thank you for this. I’ll report the information back to the Council, if no one minds_ ,” he said, stretching his back out. “ _I actually have to make a few reports, a couple of them are quite overdo. I’ll be back_.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” his mom returned, “ _very much_ …”

“ _It was my pleasure_ ,” Quinlan returned. “ _Well…mostly. Freeing you was worth it. But it was not an experience I want to repeat_.” He hesitated, giving a brief glance to Qui-Gon. “ _But I will_.”

There was a promise in that, and Anakin found himself looking back to Qui-Gon, who turned to his mom and took a breath. “ _Shmi…if you…if you do not mind me mentioning it, you brought up freedom trails_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” his mom said softly. “ _I did_.”

“ _I wish to tell you that you do not have to_ ,” Qui-Gon returned equally softly, “ _but I have been sent by the Council not just to free you, but to ask you a question_.”

“ _Yes_?” his mom prompted, and Anakin’s heart swelled, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

“ _The Jedi…we would like to do what we can to assist you. We cannot fight a war, but we are willing to do whatever it takes to help you win your freedom_.”

His mom stared at him with wide eyes, listening.

“ _This ship is a gift from the Queen. It has enough collateral to free a good deal many more slaves, and the ship itself can take you wherever you would like to go. There is also a scanner that can locate the detonator chips inside of you and remove them_.”

“I helped with that,” Anakin called out, “I helped with the scanner, that was…it was mine.” Anakin hesitated and then reached into his pocket and pulled out the small chip that they had removed from him, showing his mother the cut behind his ear. “I found it, I scanned it with the scanner, and when they put me down they removed the chip, let me work with the scanner to prove it hadn’t been tampered with and…and they gave me the chip. It’s out, mom, it’s _gone_.” The words were said with the same stunned disbelief they had been ever since the beginning, but he could feel it in the scar, could see it in the chip that he held in his hand, the one that they had encased in glass. It was gone, it was gone…

“ _It was his scanner_ ,” Qui-Gon agreed with a smile. “ _Your son is very talented with machines_.”

“ _I_ …” his mom hesitated, staring at him.

“ _I am also…I am also authorized to ask you to tell us how best we can help you. You give us the orders; you tell us where to go and how best to help and we will do so. We are at your disposal_.”

His mom’s hands went to her mouth, and she stared at him, before looking to Anakin, and then back to Qui-Gon.

“ _I suppose_ ,” Qui-Gon smiled, “ _if you will let us, the Jedi have finally come to free slaves. How is entirely up to you_.”

While Anakin did not know it, it was the second time that day that Shmi wept into the arms of a Jedi.

It was the third time that her heart was full.

But it was the first time she wiped her eyes, her resolve shone on her face and she looked Qui-Gon in the eye. “You _will train my boy, Jinn. Quinlan will help me_.”

Qui-Gon frowned slightly, clearly taking this in, before Obi-Wan gave a slight gasp, looking to Anakin with wide eyes. Anakin straightened as Qui-Gon turned to him, and with all the gravitas he could muster, “I’m going to do it, Teacher. I’m going to be your Apprentice.”

Qui-Gon took this in for a moment, and then smiled, the look so warm. “ _I am thankful, Anakin. Will you give me a few days, Shmi, before I return? Let me help you settle, and I will return to your son._ ”

“I will start his training,” Obi-Wan said immediately. “I’m sure the Council will approve it.”

His mom took a moment, thinking this through, and then nodded. “ _Very well. Will you tell your Council now_?” she asked.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, standing up, and beaming at Anakin. “I will. Thank you. Good luck, Qui-Gon, Shmi…may the Force be with you.”

“ _May the Force be with you_.”

Anakin felt his heart swell, happiness glowing deep within him. His mom had been freed, and in turn she would free others. The Jedi had agreed to help and followed Anakin’s recommendations. Anakin was going to be a Jedi. Anakin had a path, and he was going to walk it.

Anakin was going to make his mother proud.

He would not look back.

* * *

Maul did not understand.

Maul stared down at the flimsi before him and flipped through it slowly.

Maul had read through _The End of Dying_ three times and had begun examining certain passages over again. Baj the Devaronian, Aola the Twi’lek… Neither of whom existed outside of the flimsi in his hands. Even their species had been obscured, but it had not taken much for Maul to realize who was being described on this imaginary world that had forsaken seeking the stars for seeking eternal life.

And then Baj and Aola both seeking the device that promised eternal life and ultimately _destroying_ it. There had been soft words spoken between them, as well as screaming, fighting between two generations that had come together. Baj teaching Aola as his apprentice, and Aola screaming for Baj, calling him her father at the end before he sacrificed himself for her. Very different than the father that had sold her into slavery. The father that had cared, Aola had said, buried in the arms of her chosen father as he died, refusing to use the device that would save him.

The device he had started out to steal, to rip from the clutches of the Elites that had created it, the Elites that were hoarding it away from the ones they deemed lesser.

In the end they had destroyed it and destroyed every mention, every blueprint of it, because the device would have caused overpopulation. They would have destroyed their own home world, unable to escape. Baj had died in Aola’s arms with her sobbing into his chest as he called her _his_ child, as he recognized her abilities and her strengths and told her that she would lead another in their Order, which had some sort of connection to the Force, but no obvious connections to the Jedi or the Sith.

Merely numerous frustrating, and ultimately illusive parallels.

Maul closed the flimsi and opened it up again, this time at complete random, when a familiar step approached. Maul put the flimsi down, but he was not quite quick enough to hide it.

“Oh!” Plo’s voice called out, and the warmth in it was enough to make Maul close his eyes, inwardly rolling them towards the ceiling, before opening them and staring at the Kel Dor approaching. “Have you read it?”

Maul hesitated, for a moment debating with himself whether or not to respond, before finally, “The title is a lie. It ends in a death; death is not what ends.”

“You _have_ read it!” Plo seemed to be beaming at him somehow, and the effect was odd, making Maul frown slightly. “And…you are also correct. I always found the title to be something of a cheat.”

“And yet you recommended it?”

“I did enjoy it otherwise,” Plo answered, sitting down on the floor before his cell. Maul hesitated, thinking for a moment about standing up and walking away, but eventually wound up remaining where he was, staring at the Kel Dor quietly. “Did you see what I meant?”

“About Teräs Käsi?” Maul asked. “Yes, I did. It was obvious that they had either watched a single battle in it or they had limited experience with it.”

“I do agree,” Plo nodded. “It was an admirable job, but they clearly had no idea how to describe some of those moves.”

“Yes,” Maul nodded. “Twisting the upper body to the degree mentioned before bringing the foot around would not have given enough momentum to break the shield as described. Particularly when there was no use of the Force involved.”

“Agreed,” Plo said, and the tone of his voice was strange, his body language shifting as he looked up towards the sky. For a moment, Maul got the idea that he was rolling his eyes, though it was not something he could see. It was an odd realization. “The one thing I consistently find very true in reading these stories is finding the inaccuracies in their descriptions of fighting styles quite…jarring. I otherwise enjoy the prose, but there is something about some of these fights that make it very difficult to take seriously.”

“It was…odd,” Maul agreed finally.

“I do have a question for you, though,” Plo said finally, straightening. “Did you find the Order as mentioned more closely attributed to the Sith or the Jedi?”

Maul opened his mouth, closed it, and finally frowned. “I was uncertain.”

“I could not decide either,” Plo frowned. “There were some elements, the ultimate self-sacrifice, but the desire for attachments in the end was quite Sith I believe.”

Maul took this in for a moment, before finally shaking his head. “The Sith are not nearly as focused on attachment as you think. Not in that manner.”

Plo was quiet for a moment, taking this in, and Maul wondered once again, just what it was that Plo thought he was getting from him. “I suppose that would be the case,” Plo answered finally. “But I did think there were some parallels.”

Maul thought of the desire for power, the need to break chains that had followed Aola to the end of her venture, and slowly found himself nodding.

“I found her a very compelling character,” Plo said, echoing his thoughts without realizing, and Maul found himself confused. She had been the most Sith of all of them. “I also found Baj to be very entertaining. I deeply regretted his death.”

Maul frowned slightly. “I do not understand,” he said finally. “It is not as though he was real…?”

“No,” Plo agreed, “but he was a good character regardless, and I was pleased that they had found each other” he said. “I had hoped that they would have been able to travel the stars as the family they had come together to be, that they were able to enjoy that realization longer than they had. Alas, it was not to be.”

Maul took this in for a moment and finally nodded slowly.

“You would have liked to see them live?”

Maul hesitated, frowning. “I do not see why they could not have simply used the device and then destroyed it.”

“Ah!” Plo called out, “that is a good point, but who else would have shared eternal life with him, since Aola refused so strongly? Who would he have been with at the end of all things? Ultimately…everyone else would have died.”

Maul found his frown deepening slightly as he looked down taking in this point. “Is that not what he wanted?”

Plo gave a soft hum, “I do not take your meaning, would you explain?”

Maul hesitated, trying to order his thoughts, “He started off the story alone,” he said finally, “travelling the world, looking to the stars and thinking about how…peaceful it was. How good it was to answer to nothing.”

“You do not think that his priorities changed when he found Aola?”

Maul hesitated, closing his eyes. “I think he thought they did.”

“Interesting!” Plo called out, straightening up, “I had not thought of that! Do explain.”

“He was always leaving,” Maul frowned. “He called it protecting, and he similarly said that he was going to teach her how to defend herself properly… But ultimately, was he not neglecting her to simply act in the way he always had been? He claimed that she would have been able to teach the Order that came afterwards, but her own training was not completed. Any Order that she created would have been a bastardization, a half-formed thing… And it would not have been her fault.”

“That is a fascinating perspective,” Plo rumbled quietly, “I had not thought of that, but those are all very good points. Do you think, then, that he did not care about her at all?”

Maul was quiet, “I think he did. But I also think he was very old, and he was very tired, and he was too attached to his own way of life. He did not have the heart to tell her that he would leave her, and so he spoke a…mistruth, while also finally finding the rest that he had wanted in the beginning. He remained alone, and she gained the father that she had wanted.”

Plo was silent for a long moment before laughing aloud. “That is not at all what I got out of it, and yet I do see where your conclusions come from!” Plo hummed, clearly thinking, “Yes, yes, I do see your point. He was often leaving her alone. He did not train her as she should have been and…my…” Plo chuckled quietly, “I am rather surprised that I missed that.” Plo sighed.

“I did not like him,” Maul said finally, and Plo gave an encouraging hum. “He promised her power, promised her that he would…” he trailed off, and Maul closed his eyes for a long moment.

And said nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I love you all, Happy Early Halloween!!


	7. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is not linear. It has its wonderful ups...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it has its terrible downs. 
> 
> Warnings for Self Harm.
> 
> Beginning before cut written to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrDKoXWKMmY

Maul had spent the many, many hours after Plo Koon had left thinking over the words that had slipped into his skull like a knife, unable to sleep and locked in thought.

Baj had promised Aola power, he had promised her that she would have been able to create an Order that would have stood on the power of its own merits, that would have been strong, and in the end… What had Baj given her but empty promises and lies? Her Order would have been a bastardized one, one that had none of their original line, for as much as he promised her otherwise… It had been a lie.

Maul’s Master had promised him power.

Maul’s Master had…

The thought stuck in his skull, one that he couldn’t voice even in his own mind, because to think it was to… Maul was Sith. Maul was raised Sith, he was going to stand next to his Master at the end of the Grand Plan and he was going...

Maul was not Aola.

Maul was Power.

Maul stood, paying attention to his body, listening for any arrhythmias in his hearts, feeling for the shakiness that had finally left his movements four days ago and finding none of it. The tingling in his nerves that often lingered after electric shock was gone.

Maul stepped up to the Ray Shield.

He was going to get out.

The thing about Ray Shields was while they did deliver a powerful electric shock that would lead to death, it would not do so immediately, and Maul was a Zabrak. Two heartbeats, two that beat and would pick up for the other. There was a reason he had been able to withstand all of the currents his Master drove into him, the powerful electricity running through him and tearing him limb from limb, tearing his soul from his body.

Maul reached his hands out, feeling the crackle, and finally pressed his hands to it.

The pain was immediate, excruciating, _beautiful_ and his blood _sang_ with it.

The calls from the Temple Guards were immediate, telling him to stop, to back off, to retreat, and Maul locked eyes with them, pushing his arms farther through, reaching out, and slowly taking that step forward.

While Maul could withstand a lot of electricity, there was no doubt that if he stepped into it fully, if it engulfed his hearts, Maul would die.

But Maul was not worried.

Maul was banking on their mercy…

Their compassion was a _weakness_.

Maul took another step, forcing the pain into the back of his teeth, gritting them, feeling the tang of iron rising up in the back of his throat and then finally, it stopped.

The Shield had been lowered. 

The Guard stood beyond, pointing the yellow bastardization of a saberstaff at him, yelling for him to back up, to stay down, but the hilt was long, and Maul had been _waiting_ for it.

He gripped the Guard’s hand and jerked it down and towards him, thrusting his head forward with a practiced ease, and while the collar was cut from his neck, a burning line underneath his ear, Maul’s horns crashed into the Mask, which shattered under the impact.

The collar fell in pieces to the ground, and the Dark rose up to meet him.

Maul’s fist punched into the air, the Force crushing the Guard before him into the ceiling, his hand still gripping on the saberstaff, taking it from limp fingers, and easily spinning forward and under the guard of one of the Temple Guardians, slicing out with the saberstaff and gutting through him.

The alarms were blaring, Ray Shields coming down all the way down the Hallways, but Maul knew mechu-deru, Maul had the Force, Maul had Power.

It was time to let them feel it.

It was time for them to know who was trapped with whom.

Maul exploded into motion, diving forward, adjusting his grip on the saberstaff and immediately compensating for the longer hilt with practiced lunges and stabbing up underneath guards.

The lights burned red and Maul laughed aloud, leaping and twisting, letting the Dark fill him from the soles of his feet to his crown of horns, relishing in the feel, feeding it with every little slight, every single frustrated, _damned_ conversation. Feeding it with the lies, the hate, the disgust, the awful thing that Maul could not name.

The Guards were rallying, Maul’s attack had surprised them, the first two casualties products of surprise and disbelief, but the blood had slaked his thirst for vengeance for the time being, and so he did not bother attempting to engage with any of them that did not force him to, instead aiming towards escape.

But Maul did not care to spare the ones who got between him and two more fell to his stolen blade, not used to the ways he utilized his power, the crackling wave of mechu-deru that turned their own fortress against them.

Maul often preferred a physical fight over everything else. Killing them with his own blade was infinitely more satisfying…

But Maul did not have his own blade.

The Temple Guardians were skilled, and their armor made them difficult, but Maul was death.

Maul had been trained since birth for one purpose.

Maul reached out with mechu-deru, pulled the shields’ will to his, called to the powers that breathed within him, screamed them into life, and _burned_.

He leapt past them, spinning down the corridor, sliding on his knees below a ray shield he deactivated, and then activated behind him, trapping them on the other side, and _ran_.

Maul had been expecting Council resistance.

Maul had been expecting for the full Force of them to come against him, to trap him or kill him.

Maul found one.

Maul found the one with the Purple Lightsaber, the one that had been so easily influenced by the Dark of his own presence, and he found himself tilting his head.

Well.

“Surrender,” the man before him said.

Maul sliced the ground before him once, and behind him once, a complicated spin that sent sparks and dug lines into the ground.

And found he was tired of saying nothing.

“Enough!” Maul barked out, voice sharp, cracking through the silence he had kept inside of him for so long, too long, and he bared his teeth. “Enough! No more of you, no more of your _lies_ , of your talk of surrender, of your feeble attempts to break me! I have trained since birth to be your deaths, and you will not destroy what I am. I am Sith, I am Death, and I am _free_. I will not surrender here. I will not surrender to _you_.”

The man before him took this in for a long moment, his expression still as marble, his presence in the Force a wall between him and out. Between him and true freedom.

But Maul would not lose. Maul would get out. He would get out, _he would get out_ , **_he would get out_** …

The burning in his blood caught fire, and Maul screamed his power into heights that had never before been reached, fueled with frustration and hate and the desire to be _free_.

Maul ran to meet the Jedi before him with blade and ferocity and power…

And found himself _met_.

As the awful ferocity of Maul’s Juyo was met by something that felt like, but not like his own, Maul recognized the man who was before him.

Maul only knew of one Jedi who had bastardized Juyo, twisted it into something Light and Palatable and _Weak_ , and while the purple saber should have been a given, Maul truly had not cared. They were simply weapons to destroy, to kill and purge and burn, but the Forms. The Forms, Maul _knew_ , and he knew whose blade crossed with his.

Mace Windu, second of the Jedi Order, and Maul bared his teeth.

Windu sent blows crashing down on him repeatedly, blows that Maul caught and parried and twisted and broke, returning them beat for beat with his own. Windu’s ferocity was odd, broken, somehow cold when it should be warm, and Maul hated it, hated what he had done to his beautiful Juyo, what he had done to the ferocity and aggression of his favored Form, and turned that hate into more fuel.

But for as bright as Maul roared, as high as his fire raged, Windu did not buckle… Their blades rained staccato on the other, Windu’s longer reach kept away by the longer hilt, slicing and twirling and raining blow after blow after blow, and the entire time, Maul let his aggression lash out, let his fire burn, threatening to catch the other alight. He had done it before. He had been drugged and collared and still his power had swayed the other.

Maul’s fire had met something that would not catch alight, and he did not know what to do about it. Their blows twisted and danced and burned and the longer it went… Maul came to realize something.

Maul was going to lose.

The feeling that brought up into his throat was sick and ugly and horrified, and he immediately grabbed hold of it, trying to feed it to the Dark, trying to gain an edge he should have had.

The Jedi were weak.

The Jedi were _weak_.

They had to be. They had to be. His Master’s words pounded in his heart, the assurances that he was more than they could take, the words that told Maul that he had _Power_.

The terrible frigid thing that should have been Juyo rained upon him, and Maul rose to meet it, screaming his hate his rage and something else that he could not give voice to, something that he refused.

Maul fought against the feeling, against the Jedi, and the Light.

Maul fought against the vision of lost freedom that he could see vanish before his eyes.

Maul felt the moment it was all over when he overextended.

Maul felt the hilt of the blade crash into the back of his skull in a similar way to how it had before, and even as Maul felt himself slammed by an invisible hand into to the ceiling, before being crushed against the ground, as he felt his nose break against the marble, as his vision turned spotted and his grasp on the Dark dropped, the saberstaff falling from limp fingers…

Maul was afraid.

And then Maul was nothing.

* * *

It had been a long night and Mace knew that it would get even longer. 

He sat with his fingers laced together, listening to the words that spilled from the rest of them, very aware that there were only three other people who had not said anything. Eeth Koth, Yoda, and Plo Koon.

Plo was almost slumped into the seat next to him, not saying anything, his aura in the Force quiet and full of a soft despair.

This should not have happened. Maul should not have been able to get out and the fact that he had… Mace closed his eyes, thinking to that burning yellow gaze full of such hate.

“We should abandon our current course of action,” Saesee Tiin said finally.

The silence that fell over them was sudden and immediate.

“We were agreed,” Ki-Adi returned, his voice firm. “We knew that this would be difficult, we knew that there may be pain…”

“Two of our Guards are dead, and the one who has done it…who is to know whether or not he will be rehabilitated. How are we going to explain to the ones we are meant to protect that we are to let him live? That we have claimed a Sith and placed him in our walls…?” Yarael asked.

“Listened to Shmi Skywalker we have,” Yaddle said, her voice firm, “understand we did the risks of a Blood Slave within our walls.”

“But we did not ask the Guard,” Depa said, and Mace closed his eyes, feeling that soft bruised feeling in Plo’s aura deepen. “We understood the risks, but we have not given it to the Guard. We did not let them choose to die…”

“What do we have that states that Maul can even be rehabilitated? What do we have that suggests that this is the best course of action?”

“The Force, we have,” Yoda said, his voice firm. “The voice of an expert, we also have.”

“We also cannot deny that histories talk of another who came to the Light once more.”

“But Revan began as a Jedi, Maul was taught in the Dark holistically, how can we say he can come to our ways?” 

“Cannot come to our ways, who also can say?” Yaddle challenged. “Unprecedented this is in the history of the Jedi.”

“The Guard also may not have chosen to die for Maul to be rehabilitated, but they did choose to die,” Ki-Adi pointed out softly. “They have committed to the Jedi Order, to the protection of our people through either life or death. You are correct in that we did not ask if they would have been willing to work with us towards his rehabilitation, but this is their duty in a similar way that it is ours.”

“Ask them we should, who would be willing to guard our prisoner in this context…” Yoda hummed quietly.

“Agreed,” Even Piell said, his voice heavy. “Provided we keep our prisoner.”

“We must,” Adi said, her voice firm, “unless you recommend that we kill him. These are the two options we once again have before us, either we kill him, or we trust the Force and trust each other, and trust in _him_ and we still seek to rehabilitate him.”

“We are right back to where we started,” Oppo grumbled.

“No, we are not,” Mace said finally. “There is no choice. We seek to rehabilitate him, or we sacrifice what we stand for.”

There was a pause, silence greeting that proclamation as they all turned to look at him.

“Mace,” Depa said softly, looking at him with that quiet way she had since she was his Padawan, the way that had looked into him and bore into his soul. It was the moment he had known she would be a member of the Council. “You…there would not be a sacrifice for you to make,” she said finally. “We would not have your blade be the one to kill him.”

“This is not because I was the one most affected by his influence,” Mace said clearly, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward. “I have heard from his own mouth precisely what he thinks has been happening, and I have learned one other fact.” They fell silent, staring at him, waiting. “Maul believes strongly that what we have been doing, our attempts to rehabilitate him, are attempts to break him. Maul has also been a Sith his entire life. He stated that he was trained since _birth_ to be the death of the Order.” 

The silence that reached this statement was heavy, Plo making a soft sound next to him. Yoda closed his eyes heavily next to him, sinking further into his chair, and there was a long pause as they took this in.

“Since birth?” Oppo whispered.

“Since birth,” Mace confirmed. “He has known no other way.”

“How can…if this is the case, then how can we possibly…?” Eeth quietly whispered.

“We listened to Quinlan’s report, did we not?” Mace asked. “Did we not hear that Shmi stated that not only was it possible it was worth doing? Do we have so little faith in the Force that we would give up at the first sign of him acting in the only way he _knows_?”

“How are we so certain that it is the Force?”

“You did not see it?” Mace asked. Yarael straightened, snake-like neck sliding from side to side as though to dodge the question, before he finally gave a soft rumble.

“No,” he said.

“I did,” Eeth said softly.

“I did as well,” Even agreed.

There were soft refrains from more than half the Order.

“Are we to deny faith in each other as well?” Mace asked.

There was another long pause.

“No,” Yarael said softly. “We should not. You are right. I did…I did not feel it, but I believe in you. If you all say that you felt the Force’s interference, then I believe.” He laughed quietly, “there is also the sight of young Skywalker practically throwing himself upon him to remember as well.”

There was an agreement, a brief feeling of tension slowly releasing and finally, quietly, “so then what shall we do?”

“We knew that he would cause pain and devastation if he could, that he would struggle to understand what we are attempting to give him is for his benefit, and now we have full confirmation of the fact that we have failed,” Plo said softly. “Our first attempts…the conversations… We did not fulfill the first step. We did not convince him that he was a slave, and so we have failed _him_. We now have an opportunity to try again, to approach this in the manner we should have been doing from the beginning.”

“How is that?” Saesee asked, his voice rough, but there was no further denial.

“I believe we must contact Shmi,” Plo Koon said heavily. “I believe that our approach is lacking.”

There was a pause as they took this in, before there was a quiet agreement.

Depa stood to contact Qui-Gon, who answered quicker than he should have. His expression was tense, and he looked them over. “ _Something has happened_."

“Yes,” Plo sighed. “Maul was able to escape. Two of our Guards were killed.”

“I was able to subdue him,” Mace said. “We have…final confirmation that Maul has been trained to be a Sith since birth.”

“ _Since_ birth?” Quinlan’s voice came as he approached, leaning over the holo. “ _A Sith trained since birth_ …” he rubbed his face.

“ _These are dangerous times_ ,” Qui-Gon said softly. “ _The idea of a Sith taking a child_ …”

“ _An_ infant…” Quinlan managed even more softly. “ _What must have been done to him_?”

“ _I believe we have resources we have not been utilizing_ ,” Qui-Gon frowned. “ _Have we asked for a mind healer to see to him_?”

There was a pause. “No,” Mace said. “We have not.”

“A mistake this is…” Yaddle said quietly. “See to him, they should. An understanding we would have.”

“If we understand how he sees the world we should be able to make our approach tailored to his needs.”

“We should have done this from the beginning.”

“Regrets we should not have, correct our mistakes we will,” Yoda said firmly, banging his stick on the ground once firmly. “Shmi, we would like to speak to.”

“ _Give us a moment to wake her_ ,” Quinlan said.

That was the moment when Mace realized how late it was and stood. “Wait, Quinlan…”

“ _There’s no need to wake anyone_ ,” Shmi’s voice called, and she approached in the background, her expression quietly amused, before it quickly turned firm. “ _I had a…feeling, that something would break this night. What has happened_?”

“Maul escaped tonight,” Mace said, slowly sitting down, looking up at the larger than life hologram of the woman they were asking so much of. “I am sorry. We had not been considering the lateness of the hour.”

“ _It is of no issue_ ,” Shmi said softly, shaking her head. “ _Do not hesitate to ask for help when you need it_.”

“Only if reciprocated this rule is,” Yoda stated, holding a finger up, an immediate agreement rising from the rest of the Council. “Much do we owe you.”

Shmi smiled. “ _You freed my boy, you freed me, and you are seeking to help me free others_.”

“A…partnership we have then,” Eeth stated.

“ _Yes_ ,” Shmi smiled. “ _You will help me free the slaves in my midst, and I shall help you free the slave in yours. You say he escaped_.”

“Yes,” Mace said. “I was able to subdue him, but…not before he killed two of our Guards.”

Shmi closed her eyes briefly, her head lowering. “ _I am sorry for your loss_.”

“Thank you,” Depa said softly. “They join the Force.”

“ _Their spirits rise over the Dunes_ ,” Shmi recited softly. “ _Did you have any forewarning before he escaped_?” Shmi asked. “ _Was something said or done_?”

That was finally the moment that Plo stood, and his feeling in the Force was grave. “I was there, Shmi,” he said.

“ _You are Plo Koon_ ,” she said, looking to him.

“Yes, that is my name,” Plo agreed with a nod. “I had…shared a flimsi with him and we had been discussing it.”

“ _That is good_ ,” Shmi said. “ _Discussions over stories is always a good way to understand the other. Yet something went wrong_ …”

“During the discussion, I believe Maul made a revelation,” Plo said. “And I do not believe he liked it,” his voice was quiet. “The story featured a girl who I think…he found he had more in common with the character than he originally anticipated. It was frankly more than I had anticipated, and upon realizing that her Master had set her up for failure…he fell silent. I left him to his ruminations and it was…not long before he had made his escape and killed two of our guards.”

Shmi was quiet for a long time, taking this in, before quietly, gently, “ _you left him alone_?”

“Yes,” Plo answered, and there was slight confusion at the fact that the point was brought up. Mace felt it as well.

“ _Is…this the way you would normally react to such a thing_?” Shmi asked. “ _You…allow the other to come to their own conclusions_?”

“We…trust in the Force,” Plo explained briefly, “we…meditate…” he trailed off and Shmi nodded quietly.

“ _I understand_ ,” she said softly. “ _It is a different culture_ ,” she closed her eyes. “Never _leave him alone if you believe something like that has happened_ ,” she instructed, her voice so heavy. “ _Maul’s mind has been twisted. His revelations are likely to be half-truthful things that miss the mark and will inevitably cause agony to himself and potentially you. You must remain with him, wait for him to come to his conclusions and then string them out of him. If they reflect reality, if they are truthful, please allow them to be kept, encourage them, but if they twist, if they are full of half-truths and lies that have been told to him, you will be able to stop them before they hurt him and he uses that to hurt you_.”

There was a pause as they took this in, before finally they rumbled out quiet agreements, words of understanding.

“ _As it is_ ,” Shmi closed her eyes, “ _something must be done to encourage him to not do this again, to show him that his actions have marked consequences, but those consequences are different to what he would expect from his original Master. It is…likely that he has no true value for life. You must make it mean something, even if that is by providing consequences to his actions that he can recognize as a loss_.”

“What would you recommend?”

“ _There can be no form of mutilation_ ,” Shmi said softly, “ _I would in fact recommend that nothing physical be done. He is a horned species, I understand, and there have been earlier attempts to do things like file their horns down, but_ …” Eeth and Saesee both flinched, and Shmi bowed to them both, “ _It was a cultural misunderstanding that was never repeated. Is there something that can perhaps be taken away_?”

“He must be moved to another room,” Mace said. “There is one with transparisteel dividers, that is smaller…”

“ _That would be a good start_ ,” Shmi nodded. “ _Anything else_?”

There was a pause. “We can switch him to a bedroll…get rid of the actual bed, perhaps remove the chair, I do not know that he has sat on it once, frankly…”

“Perhaps remove the plant?”

They were startled when Shmi laughed, looking up to her. “ _I am sorry_ ,” she said finally, “ _I merely… I am pleased at the reminder that you are_ kind. _I would have never expected for you to have provided so_ much.”

There was a pause at that, they looked at each other, “Should we not have?”  
“ _You have done wonderfully in terms of giving him everything he could need. Does he have a private space for him to wash and relieve himself_?”

“Yes,” they answered.

“ _Good_ ,” she nodded. “ _Your accommodations have been wonderful. I agree with what you are talking about removing_.”

“Should we get rid of the flimsi?”

Shmi was quiet for a moment, thinking. “ _No_ ,” she said finally. “ _But I would recommend staying with him longer, having those discussions, making sure that if he reads them someone is there to talk to him about them. You must also make sure he knows that they are things he can regain. Reward his good behavior. Give him reason to act with kindness_.”

“Understood.”

“ _Is that all that I can do for you_?”

“Thank you, Shmi, yes,” Mace said, standing and bowing, “your advice, as always, is appreciated. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“ _Let me sleep_ ,” she smiled, her expression warm, and they laughed, “ _may the Force be with you._ ”

“And also with you.”

Not for the first time, Mace found himself wondering whether the Force connection was genetic. He had little doubt that Quinlan and Qui-Gon both would find it if it was.

There was a bow, and the connection was cut.

Plo stood up then, walking forward to stand in the center, and quietly, “I have a request.”

“Please,” Yoda said, turning his attention to Plo.

“I would request that the Council grants me permission to Seek,” he said softly. “I am off balance, brothers, sisters,” he finished. “I require healing I cannot do here.”

“Go,” Mace said, “and know that our condemnation does not go with you.”

Plo bowed and turned. Mace had little doubt that his first stop would be to the Guards. It was not something Plo could have known, but it would have left a mark. Plo would return and he would be more centered.

Mace trusted the Force.

Mace also internally calculated when would be the best time to request to travel to Dathomir. He wished to talk to the Nightsisters. He wondered if they could speak of a missing Nightbrother.

Finally, they stood. They had work to do.

* * *

Maul woke up.

For a moment, he did not understand why that was surprising, and then it all rushed back. Maul stumbled to his feet, sending the blanket that had been covering him to the ground, and found himself somewhere new…

It was smaller, he noticed at first, practicing his forms would not be difficult, but he would not be able to pace as much, and then he noticed that the Ray Shield had been switched for transparisteel. Maul approached it, tapping at the smooth pane, and slowly turning around. The air tasted vaguely recycled, likely due to the solid divider behind him, and he looked around.

The bed had been removed, as had the dresser, and the chair. The bedroll had replaced it, and the flimsi was also still there… It took Maul a moment to realize what had also been removed. The plant that had been on the dresser was no longer there as well.

Maul stared at the spot where the dresser was, confused by the rush of thoughts, but they faded as he noticed the door. He walked towards it, opening it to once again find a separate refresher.

Maul closed the door and turned back to his new and smaller space. His gaze drifted to the lack of dresser, and then back to see that there were Guards approaching.

Maul hesitated, before walking forward.

There was a long pause as they stared at him, and he at them.

The Guard said nothing for a long moment. “You killed two of our People.”

Maul said nothing.

“We still mean to rehabilitate you,” the lead Guard finally said, his voice firm. “You will not get out again. Not until you are released.”

Maul took this in for a moment, before spitting, words of hatred and bitter disgust rising up on his tongue, but he did not unleash them past that initial reaction.

No more. No more.

Maul had swallowed silence yet again. He would not say a single word.

He turned and walked to the bedroll, finding himself curling with his back facing them. It felt petulant, childish even, but there was nothing more that he could do. His rage was an angry miserable churn in his stomach that would not end and there was nothing to unleash it on outside of himself…

Maul had failed and there was nowhere to turn the anger but himself, not without making a spectacle, and he had done enough of that. Maul’s teeth dug into his fingers without true thought, biting until he tasted blood, until he could no longer stand it, until the disgust had faded with the red trickling onto the bedroll.

Maul did not know how long he lay there facing that wall, did not know how long it took until there was no one behind him, but slowly they left until the only ones that remained were the two that always guarded his cell.

Maul wiped at his mouth, feeling the red slick on his chin, and finally turned once he had hidden the evidence of his weakness, staring out into the darkness beyond his cell, thinking back to the duel, the strange coldness of Vaapad and how much he hated it. He thought of the conversation and thought of how much he hated it.

Maul hated…

His gaze drifted to the missing plant, staring towards it for a long time, and then finally closed his eyes, turning away.

Maul stared into the darkness and wondered why they would be so fucking insistent on what he knew was a lie. There was nothing that they were going to get from him. He would not bend. Maul would not break.

Maul found his gaze drifting back to the absence of that damn plant again. Maul hadn’t even watered it; the leaves had started to fall…

Why did he miss it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, very early chapter here. I love you all, thank you for reading. As per usual I’m sorry about the tags. This genuinely wasn’t the plan until I got to the end of the chapter, looked back at it and went ‘fuck’. This will probably happen a lot.


	8. Mothers and Sons Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin reacts to the news. 
> 
> Mace Windu visits a Mother. 
> 
> Eeth has a difficult job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again~! I am pleased to bring you another new chapter~ Reasonably soon I think? There is a lot of fun speculative anatomy in this chapter because I swear to fuck, what's the point of non-human characters if you can't have fun with them? The horn type that is mentioned within this chapter actually does have a real life earth-basis, with a singular species that does the same, only their horns are 'pronged'. These aren't, but fuck it, what's the point if I can't have fun non-human bonding rituals? Other things, other things... Oh. Maul is canonically like. 5'9". He is short compared to like. Everyone. It is hilarious to me and I love it. However, given that I am working with a younger Sith, the idea that he's shorter than even that... I'm going to clock him at around 5'7"? Please feel the same amount of absolute hysterical joy at him fighting 6'3"-ish Mace Windu, or a 6'4" Qui-Gon Jinn, because I am nearly dying at the thought. Funny thing about growth spurts and how they tend to happen when the body is more stable. 
> 
> Funny thing. 
> 
> Mother Talzin is a lying liar who lies, but also tells the truth. Fun combo. 
> 
> Sourcing:   
> https://animaldiversity.org/collections/mammal_anatomy/horns_and_antlers/ - horns! also horns vs. antlers, neat shit~ Very bottom for the horns in question.

Anakin was sitting alone, his mind buzzing and his heart in pain.

The worst had happened. Two Guards had died and two were submerged in bacta – with every likelihood of healing, but nonetheless they had been in near critical condition when they were brought in. There were some good things to come out of it. The Council had taken a deliberate stand in front of the entire Temple to state that they were going to heal the Sith in their midst, that the Force had put them on this path. The Guards that had remained had also stood there before them and stated that they were ready to die for this.

Any rumblings of discontent, any feelings of hurt or betrayal had been quickly assuaged with the support of both the Council and the Guards. The mumblings of Revan and the reminders of what a healed Sith had looked like had done the rest. Words spoken of what had been done for the Jedi, and what they had done for him.

It still was a loss. Anakin remembered waking with the feeling that something was wrong, remembered Obi-Wan’s frantic bid to get dressed, remembered the sudden piercing feeling of pain that wasn’t his…

Anakin had snuck away after the announcement, wanting time alone with his thoughts. They were inexperienced healers, Anakin had known that, but he had hoped…

Anakin had hoped.

He sighed, leaning back slightly, looking up towards the starless sky he could see from the window. It was so different to Tatooine, but Anakin swore he would get used to it. This was home now.

He _had_ to get used to it.

Anakin did not know how long he sat there; did not know how long he had been lost with his thoughts until he heard feet running towards him.

“Anakin? Anakin!” he heard, and he stood up, turning to face Obi-Wan who was hurrying towards him. “There you are,” he said, taking a breath as he bent over, his blue eyes full of worry as he stared at him. “I couldn’t find you, I…” he rubbed his face. “I didn’t know where you went. I was afraid you went to see…” he sighed. “I was afraid you snuck off to see Maul.”

“No,” Anakin denied softly. “I don’t want to see him for a bit.”

Obi-Wan hesitated before sitting down next to him. “Your mother said that this could happen.”

Anakin nodded, huddling slightly. “It can,” Anakin agreed softly. “But it doesn’t _have_ to,” he whispered into his knees.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “We’ll have a funeral soon,” he said finally. “They’ll be honored for doing their duty and mourned.”

“They will be _mourned_?”

“Oh, Anakin, a Jedi can mourn. We can love as well, it’s just…it’s that attachment, that inability to let go.”

“But then…” Anakin hesitated. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. “If they can’t be attached, how do you mourn?”

“Has anyone sworn revenge?” Obi-Wan asked. “Has anyone…foresworn the Council, or the other Guards?”

“No,” Anakin frowned.

“We _mourn_ , Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly. “But we also recognize that they have gone on to the Cosmic Force. They have met unity, and so our mourning is coupled with celebration, with an understanding that we _will_ see them again. It is that way with all death. There will likely be a period of time where the ones that were closest to them are filled with the most sadness, where they will wish that they were with them… But ultimately…ultimately, we are _Jedi_. We will let them go.”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment, taking this in, before he finally nodded. “Can I go to the funeral, too?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said softly. “We’ll all go.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “No one would blame you for mourning the inability to see your mother for a while, Anakin,” he said softly, speaking to something else Anakin had feared. “The other Padawans and Initiates might…well, they might not understand, but none of the Council would begrudge you. I won’t either.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “I also might not understand exactly what you are feeling, and I won’t be able to relate on a…” Anakin threw his arms around Obi-Wan, squeezing, and Obi-Wan gave a brief call of surprise, before putting an arm around him as well, squeezing back. “It’ll be okay, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Your mother is still someone the Jedi will keep in touch with. And…” Obi-Wan sighed, “Maul hasn’t ruined his chances. We aren’t going to stop trying to rehabilitate him. I admit to being a bit surprised that…well. I don’t know why you’re so upset. Were you not one of the ones that warned that this would likely be what he does?”

Anakin was quiet for a long time. “Yes,” he whispered. “But I thought…” he frowned. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I just _felt_ like…”

“Ah, _feelings_ ,” Obi-Wan sighed, leaning back and taking Anakin with him. Anakin managed a brief huff of a laugh as they fell against the wall. “What about them?”

“I just…” Anakin huffed, “I feel like he could have done better. Like he _should_ have been better. It’s…it’s not fair and I know that…I _know_ that fair doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but…but I was called to _save_ him… I had hoped…” he wiped his face, “I had hoped that it would have been _easier_. I had thought that he would have just…” he sniffed. “If I was _called_ , why isn’t this _easier_? _Is it…”_ Anakin hiccupped, finally whispering the thought that had ate at him from the moment he heard, “ _is it_ _my fault they’re dead_?”

Obi-Wan sat bolt upright, taking Anakin with him, before shifting slightly, looking him in the eye. “Anakin, _what_?” he asked, completely inelegantly, staring at him with the first honest surprise Anakin had ever seen.

“I…” Anakin sniffed. “If I hadn’t listened to the call…if I had just…”

“Maul would be dead,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Maul would be dead, and a life would have still been lost. Have you ever helped your mother with a Blood Slave?”

Anakin hesitated. “From a distance,” he admitted softly, “I didn’t get to meet them until…until they weren’t hurting others. Until the pain had turned internal.”

“Why is that?”

Anakin sniffed. “Because I was good at…at spotting when it was going to get bad. When,” Anakin wiped his face, “when they were going to do something.”

“To themselves or others?”

“To themselves, mostly,” Anakin sniffed. “I don’t think my mom wanted me around them when they’d hurt others.”

“A reasonable desire,” Obi-Wan returned softly. “But Anakin, you must…you _cannot_ blame yourself for Maul’s actions. His actions are his own, and as a…as a Blood Slave they are trained into him. Maul is a _weapon_ , and he is going to _act_ as a weapon until he knows otherwise. Even if the Force has called to us to spare him, he still acts with his own will. But I do believe that he will learn, and I trust you, and I trust the Force, and I trust in him to turn away from the Dark. And most importantly, Anakin: I don’t just trust this, I _know_ that it was not your fault.”

Anakin slumped into him, throwing his arms around him and pressing his face into Obi-Wan’s collar. The tears that spilled are uncommented on, and when they finally stood at the sound of a chime, Obi-Wan brushes the tears off carefully. “Come on,” he said softly. “We will watch as they are returned to the Force.”

Anakin nodded, sniffed, and followed, the knife of guilt starting the slow dislodge from his heart.

* * *

It had been weeks since Maul escaped and was recaptured, since their Guards had returned to the Force.

Mace Windu sat in the pilot chair of his fighter, reflecting to himself quietly as the blue blur of hyperspace washed over him. In that time Anakin Skywalker had managed to truly begin settling into his Apprenticeship. Obi-Wan had been a good temporary Teacher until Qui-Gon returned, helping Anakin go to his testing and seeing to it that he’d begun his lessons in reading and writing Aurebesh, as well as giving him more extended testing so they knew what gaps in his education needed to be closed.

Anakin worked with the Initiates at first, and while there was definitely a disconnect it did not seem as though it was as deep as they had initially feared. Anakin had decided that he was going to be a Jedi, and he had also decided that nothing was going to stop him. That apparently included Initiates that did not understand him.

Mace was grateful, even if a part of him was regretful.

Anakin deserved friends his own age, but that was beyond the ability of the Council to enforce.

Nonetheless, he was settling, and his aptitude was revealing itself to be beyond most of his peers. Hence some of the difficulties. However, even with that setback, Anakin had been an attentive and dutiful student, and his resolve shone through. Overall, Mace was very pleased on the Skywalker front of things.

On the Maul side…

Maul had not spoken a word. After his initial half-admittance, half-boast, after he had _lost_ … Maul had not said a single thing.

Maul had begun training again, had settled into a crude form of meditation, and was still eating, but otherwise… He had begun acting as though the Jedi that approached him did not exist.

It had taken those weeks for Mace to finally bring up the option of speaking to Mother Talzin, of perhaps gaining insight into a lost Nightbrother.

Taken as an infant could mean one of two things. Either Maul had been stolen, or he had been a gift.

Ultimately, Mace had an opportunity here of learning who the Master was. Of knowing who it was that had trained Maul. There was also the opportunity of knowing more about what had led to this. Mace did not know if they would surrender Maul to them, it would be trading slavery for slavery, but Mace honestly didn’t think that the Nightsisters would take him back anyway.

It was no secret that the Nightbrothers were under the Nightsisters’ power.

A Nightbrother trained in the ways of the Sith would potentially cause an upheaval that would not be fixed anytime soon, and he could not imagine Mother Talzin would compromise her rule in such a way.

Mace was therefore confident as he landed and stepped out, walking into the wilds of Dathomir, that Mother Talzin would not express interest in taking Maul back, and they could gain valuable intel. He supposed it depended on whether or not Maul was a _gift_. If he was…there was a possibility that they would overextend, that the one who had taken their gift would be notified of the Jedi’s interference.

Regardless, as Nightsisters fell from the trees, surrounding him, and he asked to speak to Mother Talzin, the explicit understanding hung heavy around them – the Jedi Council knew that Mace Windu was there, and Mace would leave unharmed, or a war that could not be won would be started.

It did not stop them from taking his lightsaber, or threatening him with an arrow to the back, but Mace was not overly concerned. They took him deep into the swamp, to the Sanctuary of the Sisters, and eventually to the largest building there, squatting like a starving nexu among the rising haze of Dathomir’s natural ichors. The world reeked of Dark and Magick and the Sanctuary was the worst of it.

Mace was led deep within to find Mother Talzin standing in a large atrium, staring out the window into the green-haze of the large pool in the middle of their Sanctuary, the cause of all the mist.

“Master Windu,” she said, her doubled-voice full of knowing.

“Mother Talzin,” Mace returned, looking to her.

“You have a question of me…”

Mace closed his eyes for a moment. “I have more than a question,” he said finally, looking to her. “The Jedi have a Nightbrother.”

“Oh?” Mother Talzin looked at him, her yellow eyes sulfurous. “And how did you acquire him?”

“He attempted to kill two of our Jedi,” Mace responded. “He was following the orders of his Master.” Mace looked to Talzin, to see how she was reacting. Her expression had not shifted, but there was a moment when her eyes flickered. “He has been trained in the way of the Sith since he was an infant. I wondered if you knew anything about him.”

Mace had not been expecting for Mother Talzin to play her hand. He hadn’t really been expecting for much at all, so it was a bit of a surprise when she looked at him, her yellow eyes sharp. “Tell me, Master Windu, is his skin as red as fresh blood?”

Mace hesitated, before giving a nod, “Yes. It’s…the darkest I have seen a Dathomirian Zabrak.”

Mother Talzin nodded slowly. “So,” she said, and her voice was quiet, “you have found the son that was stolen from me.”

Mace Windu froze. He turned to look at Mother Talzin, her gaze even as it met his eyes. “ _Your_ son?”

“Yes,” Mother Talzin answered softly, “my son. Stolen from me before the afterbirth dried on his skin. Stolen from me before I could give him his true name.”

Mace Windu stared at her, feeling the truth of her words, reading the Force as it flowed over them. There was a slowly growing horror behind his breastbone, one that he breathed in deep and carefully breathed out. “So soon?” he whispered.

“Tell me, Master Windu,” she said, and her gaze was hard as it pierced him, “has he been marked?”

“Yes,” Mace answered with a sharp nod. “His markings are black. From what we have seen he is covered in them.”

“Then that was stolen from me as well.”

Mace closed his eyes for a moment, before reaching into his robes and pulling out his handheld holoprojector, activating it to show the face of Mother Talzin’s son.

She gave a soft sound, taking a step forward as she looked at the piercing quality of his eyes, the way they bored out from black markings, taking in the black that branded him. Her mouth twisted, and it was a look of almost disgust.

Mace felt that little knife of horror twist and carefully breathed it out.

“His marks have been bastardized,” she said softly. “My son has been caged by a hand not of Dathomir.”

Mace closed his eyes, trying to think of what to do, what to _say_. This was not something he had expected. To learn that Mother Talzin’s son was the one who had been taken, to stare into the eyes of the woman who had given birth to him, and for her to be so powerful… Maul was a Prince of Dathomir, a son of their Leader, of their _Mother_.

“His name is Maul,” Mace intoned, and Talzin’s gaze shifted to his, before looking back to his face. There was a pause before something almost like amusement drifted across her face.

“The name is well chosen. It is a good name for a Brother.”

Mace took that in for a moment, finally nodding, breathing out the momentary gratefulness that at least _this_ had not been taken from the one in their care. “We aim to rehabilitate him,” Mace said finally. “We aim to…remove the cage around his soul, to let him be free. When we are finished…we would return him, if that is what he wants. If that is what you want.”

Mother Talzin’s gaze turned from the hologram to Mace Windu’s, and her expression was ice. “Why would I wish for him to be returned?” Mace felt his head tilt back at the coldly intoned question, felt his jaw tighten at the quiet, “What use do I have for a Son?”

Mace Windu had struggled with anger when he was younger. In that one moment, Mace felt the return of all of that anger, all of that rage, and it was the first time in a very long time that he fought to breathe it out. The influence of the Sith in their midst had been banished as easily as breathing, the sight of young Anakin Skywalker before a juvenile Sith Lord had been enough to shake it from him.

Mace took three deep breaths, and finally breathed it out. Three tries to breathe out the anger at the sound of a mother so callously refusing her own son. A son that had been taken before he had been cleaned. A son who had been taken before he’d been _loved_.

But this was the way of the Nightsisters.

This was the way of the Nightbrothers.

“He would receive more care in your hands than he could ever have in my own,” Mother Talzin intoned, and Mace closed his eyes before giving a slow nod.

There was a truth in it that he did not like.

“Very well,” he said, though it stuck in his throat. “Do you know who took him?”

Mother Talzin was quiet for a moment before she spread her hands. “He came claiming that he wanted to learn the secrets of the Nightsisters. Of our Magick. We accepted him as he was willing to pay tribute. He deceived us, killed a score of our Sisters, and stole my son.” Mother Talzin’s gaze was firm, her words dark as pitch. “If I had a name to give you, Master Jedi, I would.”

Mace took this in for a moment, before his eyes closed and he bowed. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Master Windu,” she said, her voice quiet. “We have lost much. If you were to find the one who stole my son…” she hesitated, looking to him as he straightened. “Take heed, Master Windu, he is a _snake_. You will not find him until he has bitten your heel.”

“We will be prepared,” Mace said with another bow. “Does he have any siblings? Is there anyone who would like to know he still lives?”

Mother Talzin shook her head. “There were no other siblings, Master Jedi.”

Mace nodded slowly. “Thank you for seeing me, Mother. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

“Of course, Master Windu,” Mother Talzin returned with a bow of her own. “Our Orders do not have to be enemies. Perhaps my son can be a token of this… He is strong, after all. I knew it at his birth. So did the one who took him…”

Mace thought of gifts that people had no right to give, and gave a soft exhale, “He is. The… The Order thanks you. It has been a pleasure.”

“I will see to it that the Sisters do not trouble you on the way back to your ship.”

“Thank you,” Mace Windu said, and with one last nod of his head, he turned, and left.

True to her word, the Nightsisters did not trouble Mace on his journey back to his ship. He could feel no tampering and upon entering, the ship felt as though it had not been breached. He walked to the pilot seat and for a moment he sat and he thought.

Mother Talzin’s words had sung with honesty in the Force.

Mace had never wished to hear lies from another’s mouth, but as he sat there thinking, he realized that in this moment he almost wished that some had been given. Mace closed his eyes for a moment, and slowly breathed out. He had a report to make to the Council.

Mace looked in the direction of the fabled Nightbrother village and thought idly of visiting it, but finally looked away. What did it matter seeing the place where Maul would have grown up? What would it do other than show Mother Talzin that he did not trust her word?

Mace started the ship’s engines and took off from Dathomir. He would wait until he was in hyperspace and then he would make the call. The information had not been much, but the picture it had painted was…troublesome.

Mace thought of mothers and he thought of sons and knew that it would be a long time before anyone would tell Maul of his heritage.

That told him of his Mother that thought to use him…that his Mother would use him as a _token_.

* * *

Eeth Koth had been given a very important, and very difficult job.

They had been in talks about it as of two days ago when the Guards spotted Maul attempting to scrape his horns against the doorframe to the refresher. Initially they thought the desire had been to cause some sort of damage to the room, but upon realization that his horns couldn’t get enough purchase, Maul had growled quietly and turned his attention away.

The sight of the bedroll sticking to horns that had started to become seriously overgrown, chipping past the dead layer of keratin had made them realize what was happening and they had presented to the Council, hence the two days of ‘how do we approach this?’ Ultimately, Maul’s horns needed to be filed, the dead keratin shed, and he had nothing to either gouge against, or files to do it on his own.

They could not give him sharp objects. They had come to realize that Maul would act upon any perceived weakness and there was a fear that he would hurt himself. There was also the fact that any tools that they could give him in order to rub down his horns had a certain…

They already had him in a collar due to keeping him from finding the locking mechanism and the ability to tamper with it. Giving him something that required him to rut his head against it like an animal… No. The fact that he’d been reduced to trying it against the doorframe was bad enough.

So, after a great deal of discussion, Eeth had finally made the decision that led to him carrying a file and a pair of binders. Maul could not be trusted not to attack, he could not be trusted with sharp objects, and frankly, Eeth wondered a bit whether or not Maul had ever been taught how to properly file his own horns. They would hold off on filing his claws down, depending on whether he asked or not.

It had been two weeks and Maul had not said a single word… Eeth did not think that Maul would ask, and the thought caused a moment of pain that Eeth breathed in and breathed out. 

Eeth had not thought it would be easy.

Even with the Force calling for Maul to live, that there was a destiny there, Eeth knew that it would be an upwards battle for him. The more he had heard, the more he had seen, the more Eeth was painfully aware that Maul had not had a modicum of kindness from anyone up until this point.

And the ones who gave him that kindness were the Jedi.

Eeth took a breath. It was frankly little wonder he had reacted in that manner. Maul had no way of understanding what was happening.

Maul had no way of processing that the ones that were kind to him had been his _enemies_.

Their loss of life had been a terrible thing, but Eeth had trusted in the Guards, and he had trusted in the Jedi within their walls to not only recognize _why_ they had made the decision, but to recognize the _importance_ of it. Eeth did not see it as the betrayal to their people Depa initially had. Eeth agreed with her that they should have told them sooner, had told them how and why they were doing what they were doing, but he did not see it as something they could not come back from.

They made mistakes, they fixed them, and they never made the mistake again, and now that the rest of the Jedi were in agreement with what they were doing it made it even more important. He wondered if her lack of contact was what had also made the possibility of going against their initial plan so simple. Eeth would petition for the rest of the Council to spend some time with Maul, if only for a short time. He rather thought that they could all benefit with more contact.

Eeth hoped dearly that he wasn’t about to make another mistake, that Maul’s desire to remove the shedding keratin was enough to let Eeth near.

One thing was for sure, though, Eeth was going to keep his lightsaber _outside_ of the cell.

Maul was stretching when he finally approached, his body twisted in an awkward angle with his foot pressed against the back of his head while his back stretched in an arch, the other leg crossed beneath him. Maul opened an eye when he heard Eeth approach, his gaze sharp. It was only after Maul closed his eyes in dismissal and shifted to another pose that he realized it was close to the time that they would feed him.

“Apologies,” Eeth said, making Maul open that singular eye again. “I didn’t bring you dinner this time, but I have something else.” Eeth held up the file, watching Maul’s eye track it, and then Maul turned more fully to face him. Eeth took a breath, preparing for what he had to say. “If you will permit me, I will file them for you.”

Maul’s expression shifted from open want to sudden disgust, before his expression closed off entirely and he stood up.

“Surely you recognize why we cannot trust you with a metal file?” Eeth said, trying to keep his tone modulated, to not give him a hint that there was any pity or amusement there. Maul took a moment, before his expression shifted a bit. “You would have to wear these,” he held out the binders, letting Maul take them in, and there was a moment when his expression shifted, and there was such…

Eeth did not want to do this to Maul. Eeth recognized that this must feel a bit like a choice without a choice, but there was nothing else for it. They could _not_ allow Maul to file his own horns due to the nature of the tool involved, and Eeth similarly could not enter into his prison without some manner of protection.

Maul said nothing for a very long time, pacing up along the edge of the transparisteel, obviously thinking, and finally, he nodded.

Eeth opened the small hatch they used for sending food in, the one that connected both panels of transparisteel, sliding the binders through, and Maul picked them up before holding them before him, and then turning, clapping them on his wrists behind his back in a weirdly practiced motion, carefully locking them on himself in plain view. Maul pulled his wrists apart, or tried to, showing how the binders flexed with him, and Eeth nodded when Maul turned around to look at him expectantly.

The realization that this was a drill that Maul knew brought more questions to Eeth’s mind, but he would wait for them to be answered.

Maul obviously would still not be speaking, and Eeth would be patient.

After making sure that Maul’s binders were in place, Eeth removed the lightsaber from his belt, holding it up so Maul could take it in, and setting it to the side. The only thing that could be used as a weapon was the file, and Eeth would _not_ be relinquishing it. The Guards stepped up on either side of him, and unlocked the door to let Eeth in, letting him step through into the small section between the transparisteel dividers, closing it behind him. A moment later and the door to Maul’s prison opened, and Eeth stood before the young Zabrak in the flesh in a way he had not since the ‘trial’.

Maul hesitated, looking at him, and Eeth walked forward, keeping his senses on alert. This close Eeth could tell how good Maul’s shielding was, the constant practicing of Teräs Käsi had hinted to it, but it was still impressive. Eeth was ready for Maul to make a move of some kind, he could not imagine the Sith not making at least _some_ attempt, so when Eeth finally stepped into the cell and the doors closed behind him, Eeth was ready for the attempted goring.

Eeth instinctively lowered his head, twisted it, and caught the horns on Maul’s crown with his own, carefully locking them in place in the gesture Zabrak had been utilizing on young and family for centuries.

Eeth was an Iridonian Zabrak, and that showed in several ways. For one, he had hair in comparison to his completely hairless Dathomirian cousins, for another their social bonds were not as firm. Due to the isolated and insulated nature of the Dathomirian Nightbrothers, they had long associated the locking of horns with affection and familiarity instead of the threat they had once been. Iridonian Zabraks were heading on that path, but they were nowhere near as settled within it, and while the rush of serotonin and warmth at the gesture was mild and easily ignored on Eeth’s part…

Eeth was not prepared for Maul’s knees to buckle beneath him, the way he slumped against his chest. Eeth instinctively caught the shorter Zabrak and lowered him carefully, immediately letting go when he felt Maul bristle, taking a few steps away.

Eeth watched as Maul shifted, shaking his head, looking a bit as though he had been submerged in ice water, his expression so…

“Has no one ever done that with you before-?” Eeth almost slipped, almost called the one before him ‘little one,’ when he knew it would come back to bite him. Maul’s look of complete lack of comprehension told him what he needed to know and Eeth nearly staggered himself.

Horn locking was one of the most innate gestures of affection to a Zabrak. A growing Zabrak, Dathomiri or not, needed them as much as a growing human needed hugs, needed positive touch, and it was still something done as an adult with close friends, with people seen as family. Eeth would allow different members of the Council and the Jedi to press their foreheads against his in an imitation, let them hook fingers… For Maul to have never experienced such a simple and yet beautiful thing when it was _necessary_ for his _development_ …

Eeth thought of a lack of understanding of art, thought of the way he had viewed their attempts to be kind to him as a threat, and thought he may understand.

Eeth hesitated, and finally straightened. For a moment he thought of explaining, but judging by the look on Maul’s face, the way he hadn’t moved and the way he seemed to have shut off… Eeth hesitated. “Will you let me behind you? Your rearmost horn looks as though it has the worst of it.”

Maul hesitated, staring up at him, before finally he gave a rough nod. Eeth walked behind him carefully, sitting down in such a way that he could move quickly if necessary, before taking the file and beginning to work his way through the keratin sheath to reveal the bone core beneath, being as careful as possible. Zabrak horns consisted of a permanent bone-core while the sheath of keratin was shed yearly, sometimes more when they were growing, and… Eeth looked at the bound hands before him, taking in where the tunic rested on his wrists and decided that Maul might actually be having a bit of a growth spurt.

Eeth took a moment as he worked through the keratin to gather himself and softly, “It is a natural Zabrakian instinct,” Eeth explained, feeling Maul’s head shift slightly and carefully adjusting himself to not hit that core. “The locking of horns is a greeting to children, friends, mates…” he hesitated, “and it is also good for stopping threats.” Maul made a soft sound that might have been a scoff and might have been a laugh and Eeth felt a slight grin pull at his mouth as he continued. “You are a Dathomirian Zabrak, a Nightbrother. Your genus is very different to mine, and your social instincts are stronger.” Eeth took a breath. “If I had known you would have reacted like that, I would not have done it. I did not realize it would be such a strong reaction. Frankly, I had only wished to stop you from goring me.”

Maul made a sound that was suspiciously like a bit-off laugh, and Eeth found that grin widening.

“Have you ever tugged at your own horn?” he asked, and Maul made an uncomfortable shift, Eeth’s expression twisting at the motion. “It’s not a bad thing to do. It’s a self-sooth, it’s…not a weakness. It’s utilizing the body’s natural reaction to stimuli and can actually sharpen awareness if you have been drugged.” Maul perked slightly and Eeth had to bite back the question of what had stopped him from acting on that initial urge. Eeth knew that Maul would have them. Eeth was quite sure he knew why, and so he dismissed it. “You may wish to start doing so,” Eeth finally said quietly, “so you get used to the way your body is going to react to the feeling. It will not quite be the same as a full interlocking, but if you use your hand to tug the first two at least… You shouldn’t have as strong of a reaction should you ever lock horns again.”

Maul took this in and Eeth carefully peeled away some of the sheath that was left on the core, reaching down to hook the base and feel where the keratin had started to regrow. It was more than hallway up the horn itself, Eeth noted, a frown twisting his mouth. It was little wonder Maul had been trying to scrape it off using the door, that must have been _maddening_. Eeth’s frown deepened, before he tapped the horn to the right of center, “This one next.”

Eeth carefully worked his way through the horns carefully, not saying much as he worked his way around, pausing periodically to check the regrowth, to file it back if it had started to chip. “If you need this again, please ask the Guards,” Eeth said softly when he was facing Maul, the last three in front of him. “I will come and take care of it. It was a neglectful act for us to let it get this bad and I apologize on behalf of the Council and particularly myself. I should have known better.”

Maul stared at him with golden eyes, taking this in, before giving a small nod.

It felt like more of a victory than it should, and Eeth was careful to breathe it out before it could cloud him. He was directly eye-to-eye with a Sith that had shown that he wasn’t unwilling to try and gore him, and it would be safer if he kept all his wits around him. Finally, Eeth worked his way through the horns above his eyes, leaving him with the singular one in the center of Maul’s forehead.

Eeth carefully worked at the keratin with the file, breaking it away and finally leaving the regrown keratin room to breathe and to finish its job encasing the bone core.

“You seem to be going through a bit of a growth spurt,” Eeth noted quietly, watching as Maul frowned at the statement, his wrists shifting behind him. “We’ll get your new measurements and have new clothes sent.”

Maul took this in for a moment before giving a slight nod, standing up slowly, Eeth doing the same. Maul twisted his binders slightly and Eeth backed away, the door opening behind him, and as Eeth stepped through Maul made a movement as though he was going to follow, but stopped, his gaze flickering slighty. Instead he turned around, letting Eeth get to the binders.

“Back up,” Eeth said softly, Maul doing so carefully, “Stop.” Maul did, his wrists in reach, and carefully Eeth reached out, pressing the trigger to unlock them, laced with his biosignature, and letting the binders fall to the ground, pulling them back with the Force as the door closed in front of him, locking Maul away.

Maul turned around to face him, and Eeth could definitely tell he had gotten a little taller. Not much, but Eeth rather thought that the regular meals and the lack of stress had allowed Maul’s body the final incentive to grow. The thought would be enough to make Eeth frown, but he refrained, unsure how Maul would take it. He picked the binders up, before turning around, the door before him unsealing and allowing him to walk into the rest of the prison. The Guards nodded at him, and he to them, calling his lightsaber to his hand with the Force, before he took a few steps forward, and then, quietly…

“Where is Plo?”

The question was soft, and rough, and there was such a note of… Eeth smiled to himself, knowing in that one moment that things were starting to shift.

There was a note of _resignation_ to that question.

Maul had recognized that it was likely in reaction to what Maul himself had done.

Maul had recognized a _consequence_.

Eeth looked to the Guards on either side, who had straightened slightly, their featureless masks turning towards him in a way that spoke of the same realization. Eeth turned, “He has gone to seek for other children to bring into our Order,” he explained. “He needed to heal away from the Temple.”

Maul’s expression creased slightly in confusion and Eeth’s expression softened.

“Not all wounds are physical.”

Maul tilted his head, before giving a soft sound of derision, looking away. Eeth closed his eyes for a moment, and then thought. Plo had given Maul the opportunity to use his first name, and he had made that clear. He had also mentioned how Maul hadn’t paid any attention when Plo had introduced himself the first time, and that was when Eeth chuckled quietly. Maul looked up sharply, and Eeth smiled, stepping forward once again. “Forgive me Darth Maul,” he said, “I have come to the realization that I have not introduced myself to you this time. My name is Master Eeth Koth. You are allowed to call me Eeth. I should have made sure you knew who I was before I filed your horns, and I do apologize.”

Maul stared at him in a way that suggested ‘finally,’ and Eeth fought not to laugh again. He didn’t blame him at all.

“Plo will be coming back.”

Maul gave a brief nod, and Eeth gave a brief bow, though hesitated before leaving, judging from the slight downward cast of his eyes and the way he had started to hold himself tighter that Maul was about to ask something else.

“The…” Maul closed his eyes, and finally said through gritted teeth, “the smaller brat, the…”

Eeth blinked, for a moment confused as to who he could be talking about, as well as fighting off a slow budding of amusement at the term. Smaller brat? Suggesting there was a bigger brat? Who would Maul consider to be a _brat_ of all things? Eeth was quite sure _he_ was younger than most of…

Oh.

Oh! 

“Anakin Skywalker?” Eeth prompted, “the one who jumped before you? The blond human boy?”

“Yes,” Maul sighed out.

“He’s started training,” Eeth reported with a smile, “he’s to become a Jedi.”

Maul took that in for a moment, giving a slow nod.

“But I will make sure that he knows you asked about him.”

The nod froze, his eyes closed, and Maul looked distinctly like he was questioning all of his life choices up until that point.

Eeth had to fight to retain serenity, he had to fight to contain his calm, and eventually he wound up having to give another bow, and walk away.

He had a report to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading~ I love you all.


	9. Kind Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of reports, Liquors, and an Unexpected Visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies~ lots of exciting stuff happening this chapter. We have someone special coming to the Temple soon lolol. Maul and his perspective is back this chapter (yay) and we finally get the Liquor of the Sands. Super happy to share this all with you, final formatting was done on my phone so if there’s issues Hhhh lol ALSO. space lord of the rings because I said so LOL

Plo walked away from the small bunk where the little Togruta had been laid, a careful last brush to small montrals given as he had laid her down. She had been tuckered out, the excitement of a new place, a new ship, and a new life letting her buzz for longer than she probably should have, but she had nodded off in Plo’s lap, so he had brought her to bed in the small ship. It was finally time to go home.

Plo was no longer raw and he had found a new youngling to take back to the Temple.

Plo guided the ship into the necessary hyperspace lane that would take them to Coruscant, shifting to hyperspace with the usual blue blur of stars. He would rest as well, he thought, setting the ship in autopilot, when a sudden hail was made.

Plo stood up, walking over to the holoprojector, and took a moment to realize that the call over the holonet line was from the Jedi Temple. Plo hesitated, before finally accepting it, and realizing as the holograms sprung into being, that he was not the only one in a starship. Master Mace Windu was also visible with the grainy quality caused from two relays, his expression firm.

Plo took them all in for a moment, looking for a sign that something had gone wrong, but outside of Mace’s hard gaze, there looked as though nothing had gone wrong. It was a relief.

“ _Master Plo_ ,” Mace stated, “ _it is good to see you_.”

“It’s good to see you all as well,” Plo said.

“ _Successful, I hope your mission was_ ,” Yoda said, his voice warm, and Plo found himself smiling, his eyes wrinkling just so.

“Yes,” he said, and he knew by the way Yoda closed his eyes with a small nod, that he knew he was talking about more than the youngling he had found. Even so, “I found a Togruta youngling on Shili. Her name is Ahsoka Tano.”

“ _Good this is_ ,” Yaddle smiled, and Plo smiled as well.

“ _We look forward to meeting her_ ,” Ki-Adi stated with a slight bow of his head, and Plo gave another smile.

“She is a very brave, very kind girl,” he said. “She will bring us great joy.”

“ _Look forward to it, we do_ ,” Yaddle nodded, and there was a brief agreement from the rest of the Council, before their attention slowly shifted towards Mace.

“ _Successful_ your _mission was_?” Yoda asked, turning to the severe Jedi.

Plo felt himself stiffen slightly.

He had heard about what they planned to discover, about Mace’s mission to Dathomir to find out what he could about a missing Nightbrother. It had been on the back of his mind ever since the first transmission that they had sent, knowing that they would find out more – one way or the other – about the Blood Slave they had in their midst.

Mace laced his fingers in front of him, his expression grave, and finally, “ _Maul was stolen from his mother_.” There was a brief swell of grief in Plo’s heart, but before any of them could say a word, Mace continued, leaning further forward, “ _his mother is Mother Talzin herself_.”

“Talzin,” Saesee breathed.

“ _The Mother_ herself?” Eeth asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Mace answered heavily.

“Then how are we going to proceed?” Plo found himself asking. “If he is her son, would she not want…?” Plo found himself trailing off as Mace shook his head.

“ _Mother Talzin assured me that Maul…was not a gift to the man who took him_ ,” Mace explained slowly, artfully dodging the original question, but his expression, the tone of his voice… “ _The one who stole Maul sought to learn from the Nightsisters, or so he originally claimed, offering to pay tribute to them in order to get their knowledge. Instead, Maul was stolen from them, a score of Nightsisters slaughtered in his escape with the infant Nightbrother. They didn’t have time to clean him, and even his name is one his Master gave him._ ” Mace closed his eyes, letting them take everything in, before quietly, a repetition, “ _Maul had no name when he was taken_.”

Plo felt the knife in his chest twist, slowly sitting down on the seat near the holoprojector, breathing through the grief.

“ _Mother Talzin also wishes for me to inform the Council that while Maul was not a gift to the man who_ stole _him_ ,” Mace closed his eyes, leaning further back in his chair, “ _while Maul was not a gift to the man… Mother Talzin is fully willing to use him as a gift to our Order. She would prefer that we…_ keep _him after we rehabilitate him. That he would be a token of peace between Dathomir and the Jedi Temple._ ”

“ _She has no_ right!” Eeth’s words were loud and sudden and utterly furious in a way that had not been heard in the Council Room in a very long time. Eeth stood up then, taking a few steps away. “ _Apologies, Masters_ ,” he said finally, quietly.

“ _It is alright_ ,” Depa said softly. “ _It is not as though it is a reaction that is misplaced._ ”

“ _Though you should be careful of your Zabrak tendencies_ ,” there was a gentle tease in Even’s voice, no sting to be had in the words. Eeth laughed quietly, taking a breath, and finally returned to his seat, sinking into it.

“ _Well_ ,” Oppo sighed, shaking his great bearded head, “ _at least we are not beholden to return him from slavery as a Blood Slave to slavery among the Sisters_.”

Plo found himself concurring, his eyes closing, a moment of painful relief sweeping through him before he breathed it out.

“ _Maul is a son_ ,” Mace concurred quietly, his expression heavy, “ _which is precisely the reason why the Mother does not wish to accept him_.”

There was a pause after that pronouncement before they shook their heads quietly.

“ _It is a shame that we do not have the power to challenge the Nightsisters over their treatment of the Brothers_ ,” Even’s voice was quiet but full of a soft sort of sneer.

“ _Even_ ,” Adi challenged softly and Even gave a brief nod.

“ _You are right of course_ ,” he sighed. “ _I will not invite war. Not after having received such a_ wonderful gift.”

Adi’s expression darkened slightly, and she looked down. “ _It is a disgustingly vile move to use her son like that_.”

“ _It would be nothing Maul has not already experienced_ ,” Eeth said quietly. “ _I have a thought that he was perhaps more…expendable than we originally thought_.”

“Your _mission, Eeth_ ,” Yoda said then, turning to him, “ _successful it was_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eeth nodded. “ _I have managed to file his horns down, and I did it without injury on either part_.”

“ _That_ is _good_ ,” Depa said, her voice softly relieved. 

Eeth was quiet for a moment.

“ _More to say have you_?” Yaddle asked.

“ _Maul has been…neglected to a sickening degree_ ,” he finally said softly. “ _Initially he did try and headbutt me, which was a move I was expecting and I…caught his horns in mine. The sensation was so completely unfamiliar he literally fell against me_.”

There was a quiet pause as this statement slowly registered among the Council Members, Plo finding himself slumping further in his seat.

Eeth was quiet for another moment before, “ _Dathomirian Zabraks are even more social than Iridionian. Their horns are used primarily for social purposes and for him to react in that way means that he has never once interlocked his horns with another, nor even had them touched outside of filing, perhaps. Maul was…completely unaware of their effect. He did not know until I told him why it had happened._ ”

There was a pause as they took this in before Saesee gave a low rumbling sound and finally, quietly, “ _I second Qui-Gon’s motion for the Mind Healers to see to him_ ,” he said. “ _I have a feeling that there is a great deal more that we can do to help him than we have done_.”

“Though perhaps we should wait until he recognizes that he needs help,” Plo said softly. “From what I understand we have attempted to send them in twice and he has not said a word to them.”

“ _Forgive me Masters_ ,” Eeth said suddenly, standing up. “ _I had forgotten in the wake of my other news; Maul has finally begun speaking again. I will state I do not know if that means he is likely to speak to the Mind Healers, but…well he_ has _been speaking._ ”

“ _What did he say_?” Mace Windu asked.

Eeth’s expression shifted, before he smiled, and then looked to Plo. “ _He asked two questions. He asked where you went_ ,” he took a breath, “ _and he realized that you had likely left as a consequence of his own actions_.”

Plo was silent for a moment, taking that in, realizing that that meant Maul had… “We will return to the Temple in roughly two days’ time. Will you pass on the message for me?”

“ _I shall_ ,” Eeth smiled.

“ _His other question what was_?” Yoda asked.

Eeth’s smile shifted, widening, and finally, “ _He asked where the smaller brat had gone_.”

There was a brief laugh that spread, a few calls of surprise and wonder, but that was all broken when Eeth finally burst out laughing, covering his mouth, “ _I’m sorry, Masters_ ,” he said again, “ _I had realized that the smaller brat was Anakin Skywalker, but I had been wondering who the obviously larger brat that Maul was referring to was. I have come to the realization that he meant Obi-Wan Kenobi_.”

The laugh spread then, and Plo’s heart was warm.

There was hope yet, he found, and he carried some with him in the back of the ship, and some within a prison.

It was interesting how hope seemed to appear when least expected.

But Plo was always thankful.

* * *

Anakin had not meant to stay away from the prison for as long as he had.

Once he had decided to be a Jedi it had been a nonstop parade of tests, haircuts, fittings, and lessons, and while initially he had struggled with the guilt, he had managed with Obi-Wan’s help to fully put away all of that lingering grief. It had been expediated by a talk with his mother who reminded him that the one rule when dealing with Blood Slaves was there was no guilt.

It was a lesson she hadn’t thought to tell him, a lesson he would have learned as he was exposed to more, as he was brought into the talks more fully, as he got older. He had to learn fast, and so his mother had talked him through some of the finer details, had reminded him that in the end they must begin to show the Blood Slave that his actions were his _own_. They had to show him consequence and accountability, that _his own actions_ had weight _outside_ of what his Master told him, and while staying away as long as Anakin had was not something he wanted to do, it was likely something that needed to be done.

Teacher Eeth Koth approaching and telling him that Maul had been asking about him was the thing that finally made Anakin look to Obi-Wan with wide eyes, and the older boy gave an immediate nod, suspending their Aurebesh lesson for the day.

It was what led to Anakin finally bringing along a bowl of soup that he had been waiting for the recipe for.

Anakin held before him the Liquor of the Sands.

Obi-Wan had taken him down to the kitchens, bringing him to meet a few of the Jedi, Padawans, and Initiates that worked there, as well as giving him the ability to talk to the Head Cook for the Carnivorous Jedi, a male Togruta named Dormosh Silon. Silon had looked at Anakin with warm fondness in purple eyes when Anakin had asked him if he could use the kitchen. When the reason it was needed was given Silon had looked to Obi-Wan, and then back to Anakin with that warmth fading slightly to be replaced by something a good deal more…

Determined?

Either way, Silon had smiled and spread his arms, “What is mine is ours,” he said, “Would you permit me to help you?”

Anakin had hesitated at the idea of giving this unknown the recipe, but at the realization that he wouldn’t be able to make it on his own he had nodded, sworn the man to secrecy, and started working with him and a couple of older Padawans that didn’t need to stand on stools to see the counter, and didn’t mind that they weren’t given the full recipe. Originally Silon had been very against the creation, suggesting that it would create a very bitter flavor, but as Anakin explained softly, that was the entire point. He also promised that it had a secret, and Silon would be allowed to taste it before Anakin brought it to Maul. After a long pause, the Togruta had agreed.

Silon had cut the required meats into squares, seasoning them with the concoction Anakin had prepared and searing them lightly as Anakin worked on mixing the broth. Shmi had told Anakin how to properly prepare it without the necessary herbs that Qui-Gon would be bringing soon.

Anakin was looking forward to Qui-Gon returning.

The kitchens had been enjoyable overall, all of the Padawans and Initiates helping each other, and Anakin when he needed an ingredient he couldn’t find. It was the most integrated he had ever felt, as he was able to help them as well and they were able to practice lifting things with the Force and handing them to each other. It had been warm in the kitchens as well, a heat that Anakin had missed since Tatooine.

Anakin rather thought he liked being in the Kitchens.

Finally, Anakin had finished the soup base, giving it to Silon to pour into the pot and heat it, mixing the meats within it. When it was finally finished, the Togruta poured a bit of heated blood into the broth, stirring it until it was crimson.

“Taste it,” Anakin smiled.

Silon gave him a slight frown, before finally doing so. Anakin watched as Silon’s face scrunched in the same expression he had seen other Blood Slaves make, before smoothing over in shock, and then thoughtful curiosity, looking back at the soup. “I see why you call it a Liquor,” he finally said, before looking to Anakin. “There is a significance to the flavor?”

“It always starts out bitter,” Anakin answered primly, looking into those purple eyes. “It never starts enjoyable, but the aftertaste is worth the wait.”

Silon paused, thinking, looking to the soup before him, before finally giving Anakin a nod and a smile, ladling him a bowl to give to Maul. “We will save the rest and give it to him periodically. How often should it be presented?”

“Once a week,” Anakin explained.

“Very well. You have permission to come to the kitchens and make it with me, I will contact your Teachers when we are low.”

And so, Anakin had thanked him and now carried the crimson soup into the Sith prison, Obi-Wan walking beside him.

Maul was lying on his back in a way that Anakin had never seen and for a moment he was almost worried. He had never seen Maul as anything other than active, either in stretching or actively practicing his katas, so to see him lying in such a position made something knot in his belly. It was only when he saw the flimsi that Maul was holding above himself that he came to the realization that Maul was _reading_. It was the oddest position Anakin had ever seen to read, but he wasn’t really judging.

Maul finally looked up from his flimsi, taking in both Anakin and Obi-Wan and giving a brief sigh, before rolling upright from his prone position. He looked at the bowl Anakin was holding with interest before also looking to Obi-Wan, who was holding the rest of a meal. Frankly, Obi-Wan was holding an entire meal if Maul decided not to eat the soup. The goal wasn’t to starve them, and it often took Blood Slaves a few weeks before they ate the soup entirely, recognizing that it would keep coming.

Anakin expected that, and had told Silon of the fact, which had led to Obi-Wan carrying a tray.

Maul took them both in, frowning at the bowl of soup and then the tray, and Anakin had a moment where he wondered how the food would be getting to him. Anakin had not seen the new prison, and it had taken a few Temple Guards to direct him properly, and now that he was standing before it… Anakin found it undeniably sad.

One of the guards opened a small slot that Anakin saw sent food in along a small channel to the right of the prison itself, and Maul hesitated before walking over to stand before it. Anakin put the food on the floor of that little channel, which closed and blended seamlessly into the wall after it was placed with Obi-Wan’s, and then the slot opened for Maul.

Maul took the tray and the bowl, balancing them both with a practiced ease and walked over to where he had been reading and placing them both down to either side, sitting down between them.

Anakin watched as he looked them both over, taking in the soup with its natural blood-red color, and then looked to the tray, before looking up at them. His eyes narrowed at Anakin for a moment, his expression strange, before he finally tilted his head and with usual blunt matter-of-factness, “Your hair looks ridiculous.”

Anakin laughed aloud, even as Obi-Wan scolded him for being rude.

“It _is_ different!” Anakin agreed, tugging at the small ponytail that was at the back of his skull and indicating the even smaller padawan braid that Obi-Wan had helped him create. “But I’ll grow into it.”

“Do you want to?”

Anakin smiled, “More than I can say,” he answered.

Maul’s nose wrinkled, “shame.”

Anakin just smiled wider. He had _missed_ Maul, he realized with a jolt that was almost painful. They hadn’t ever really spoken much, and the conversations had been awkward and stilted, but there was a kinship he felt that he couldn’t shake. Anakin took a breath and blew it out in a sigh. Anakin finally indicated the soup.

He had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Maul did not know the feeling that was currently buzzing in his chest.

Maul did not know why he _cared_.

Maul looked to the smaller brat that he now remembered was named Anakin Skywalker, and found his gaze shifting to the brat that was still nameless. He rather hoped he stayed that way. His attention though was quickly drawn back to the food. The bowl of soup was…strange, the smell an odd tang. He could smell the fresh blood within it, which had been missing in a lot of his meals, but at the same time…

“The Liquor of the Sands,” Skywalker said, indicating the soup. “It’s from my birth planet. It’s from Tatooine.”

Maul narrowed his eyes at it, thinking of the rolling dunes and the equally rolling heat. He also found himself looking up to Skywalker with a slight raise of his brows.

Maul had been around Skywalker long enough to know that there was always some sort of ulterior motive for what he was doing. There was some lesson that they wanted to give him. Maul would wait.

Skywalker seemed to recognize that Maul wasn’t going to touch it until he revealed his angle, so he took a breath. “It’s traditionally prepared for Blood Slaves.”

Maul tilted his head, taking this in for a moment. _Blood_ Slaves? If nothing else, it sounded interesting.

“It’s…meant for Slaves that were given the duty of getting more blood,” Skywalker said, his mouth in a fine line. “Slaves that were told to kill as their only mission. They give blood to their Masters.”

Maul remained perfectly still.

It was not a…wrong description of what Maul had done. Maul was an Assassin for his Master… Maul would kill the men and women that his Master pointed to. He would present his Master with blood. It was his job, his…duty. But Maul was not a slave to it. Even so, the similarity had struck. Very well.

So, the Youngling had a point, though he missed the mark.

Maul would try the soup.

Maul picked it up, taking it in for a moment, Anakin watching with wide eyes as he hesitated, took in another breath of that _smell_ , and carefully took the spoon up and took a bite.

Maul’s first impression was it was _bitter_.

The flavor was almost an assault on his senses and while a part of him wanted to spit it back, the rest of him took it as a challenge, swallowing it thickly. It was then that something very…strange happened. What Maul had expected to be a disgusting and unpalatable aftertaste rose as something sweet and light, better than anything he had frankly ever tasted. Maul stared at the bowl with abject confusion, not entirely certain whether or not he wanted to take another bite or not.

Maul looked over to Skywalker, taking in the way he stared at him, almost… Expectant?

Maul did not understand, but the more he thought of it the more he thought it had to be some sort of test. The bitter flavor had been an assault, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He didn’t understand why they would give it to these ‘Blood Slaves’ unless it was some sort of test. They had to want them for something, after all. There was no reason they’d spend this much time with someone who dealt with blood if there was nothing to gain.

Surely, they meant to use them in some way to gain more blood. That was their only use.

Maul looked at them, looked back to the soup and decided he was going to eat it. He’d pass their little test.

It didn’t matter anyway.

They wouldn’t get anything from him.

Maul worked his way through with the single-minded determination that had gotten him through the worst of his training. The pleasant taste at the end, that feeling of satisfaction that followed when he finally scraped it clean and sat there feeling genuinely full was… Perhaps worth it.

He looked over to see Skywalker staring at him in absolute shock. Maul looked at the bowl. Maybe he hadn’t been meant to eat it?

“I’ve never seen anyone finish it the first time they’ve been given it?” Skywalker said, his eyes still so wide.

Maul would take that as an accomplishment.

“Do you even think you can eat the rest of that?” the brat asked.

Maul hesitated, looking to the tray next to him, before taking the fruit from it as well as the water. The meat he left, taking the tray with the empty bowl to the slot, which was opened for him to return the food, setting it in the slot and stepping back, biting through the sweet flesh of the jogan fruit as it closed and the brat collected the tray. “I wish I could eat this,” the brat said. “It feels like a waste…”

“I will take it,” one of the Guards said with a brief bow.

“Ah, good! Please enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Knight Kenobi.”

Maul felt a slight annoyance rise up. Apparently, the brat’s name was Kenobi.

Didn’t matter.

Maul worked his way through the fruit, not caring about the seeds which were perfectly edible, frankly, and sipped at the water while listening idly to Skywalker talking to the brat quietly, not really paying attention. This was a sort of routine he had noticed, Maul would eat, and they would wait patiently until he had finished, when the talking would start.

Maul’s least favorite part was the talking, but he was willing to follow the rules so long as he was able to get the strength to make another escape attempt. Eventually, Maul would get out. He knew that his Master was on Coruscant and he would find him. He had hoped that his escape initially had been enough to bring his Master’s attention, but it was possible that the shielding here was too good.

Eventually Maul would try again.

Eventually Maul would be free.

Finally, he had finished the fruit, and the only thing left was the water, which Maul was content to sip at. The brat gave a brief clear of his throat to get Maul’s attention, nodding to the flimsi that he had been reading. “What were you reading?”

Maul looked to the frankly strange story he had been reading, his nose wrinkling slightly, before instead of a more vocal answer, he picked it up and threw it with a perfect spin, letting it smack against the transparisteel and flop down in front of the brat, who gave a surprised noise. When it didn’t fall backwards, the brat let out a laugh, scooting closer to read it through the two layers of protection.

“‘Home is Behind,’” the brat read, before his expression brightened, “oh! This is a wonderful book! I do love this series; did they give you the other two?”

Maul frowned, looking to his stack of flimsi before giving a slight shrug. “Not that I have noticed.”

“That’s a travesty, I’ll find my copies and bring them to you so you can finish,” the brat stated with a nod, before looking to Skywalker. “Have you ever read them?”

“No,” Skywalker answered.

“Hmm,” the brat’s expression shifted slightly, thoughtfully, “I have an idea then, we’ll work our way through the first one while Maul can read the other two, after he finishes the first of course. Discussing it would likely be fun.”

Maul frowned, “why does everyone here wish to discuss fiction?”

“You do not find it inspiring?” the brat asked.

“I find it laughable.”

The brat’s expression shifted, surprise in his gaze before it changed, softening somehow and… “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have never read a more beautiful tale.”

Maul sneered at him, “and in what way would you call it ‘beautiful’? The characters are unbelievable, the…”

“In what way are they unbelievable?” the brat challenged, looking surprisingly unsettled.

“You cannot expect me to believe that…” Maul reached towards the flimsi, only to hiss when it did not return to him, when the collar burned in warning. Maul stood up deliberately, walking forward and taking the flimsi in his hands, ignoring the way Skywalker and the brat’s face both seemed to pinch. Maul flicked through the pages once more, before finally, “you cannot expect me to believe that this… Wiseam would truly be as noble as to sacrifice his own wellbeing, that he would be so devoted to Fordin that he would give so much with absolutely nothing wanted in return? Such a thing does not exist.”

“But it does,” the brat insisted, and Skywalker was nodding as well, his expression wide-eyed and insistent. “That sort of love and selflessness is shown all over the Galaxy…”

“By the easily misguided and the naïve.”

“No! It’s…truly, Maul, it’s not that unknown.”

“My family has freed so many Blood Slaves without any thought of what they can give back to us,” Skywalker added, nodding.

“Like you aim to free me,” Maul sneered.

“Well…” the brat hesitated, “yes, of course. We don’t expect or want anything from you. We merely…we just wish to free you.”

Maul felt it rising within him, something that had happened so rarely he was still a little unused to the feeling, but when the loud peals of laughter escaped his chest to ring in the cell around him, causing both the brat and Skywalker to flinch back, the Guards to shift their grip on their saberstaffs… “Truly?” Maul asked when he had gained control, “truly you are going to sit here before me, _Kenobi_ and suggest that your Order has nothing to gain from my ‘rehabilitation’ that you plan on just…freeing me and leaving me to my own devices.”

“Yes,” Kenobi stated immediately giving a sharp nod. “Of course.”

“And tell me, Kenobi,” Maul stood then, looking down at him, his lips curling into a sneer, “if I were to continue with my practice of the Dark Arts, to use the power of the Sith…would you let me leave this Temple?”

The brat, who had stood up to meet his look, to glare down at him…faltered. Maul saw it in the way his eyes darted to the side, the way his head lowered slightly, and Maul gave a soft, “ah,” and took another step forward, until his nose was mere centimeters from the transparisteel, looking up slightly into the eyes before him. “There is the crux of your _freedom_ , isn’t it, _Master_ Kenobi?” he hissed the words out softly, watching as Kenobi flinched slightly at the tone, the way his eyes darted once more. “So long as I act within the boundaries that you and your Order provide you will call me rehabilitated, you will even set me free… But we both know that your freedom is a lie, is it not? For you offer me no choice.”

“But you do not know the Light Side of the Force, you do not know what you are missing,” Kenobi protested, and Maul let out another laugh.

“Just as you don’t know the Power of the Dark Side, just as you do not know what you have given up in your effort to spurn power. You speak of choice, do you not, but ultimately you will give me none. You will rehabilitate me and bring me within your Order as a Jedi, or I will be released once again gutted of my ability to utilize the Force because otherwise I would be _too dangerous_.”

“No, that’s not true, it…”

“Is it not?” Maul interrupted, “tell me then, Jedi, you would allow me to use the Dark Side? You would give me the power of Choice?”

“But is it true choice if you do not know what you are choosing from!” Kenobi finally called out, his voice ringing along the halls. “Is it a choice if you do not know any other way? I do not wish to cage you Maul, no one in this Order does… We…we just wish to give you the ability to learn, to…”

“And tell me,” Maul asked, his words deliberately smooth, his tone completely level, “when I learn of your Light Side, when I give up my Sith Arts for however long it takes me to understand… What should happen if I decide I do not wish to give up the Dark? What would happen if I decide I prefer my Sith Arts to your Jedi niceties?”

Kenobi stared at him and there was horror in his gaze, horror and something that was cracked and aching. “I…” he started, and then slowly trailed off.

“And here, then, is where your lies crumble, is it not, _Master_ Kenobi?” Maul sneered. “Here is where it is revealed that the Jedi Order is as full of hypocrisy as it is of lies. You speak of finding this work of fiction beautiful, of the loyalty and sacrifice given without ulterior motive as something that happens here, that will be gifted to _me_ … And yet…” Maul smiled. “And yet all I hear is more lies from a bloated Order, and truths from a Slave boy that has never known anything of _worth_.”

Kenobi froze, staring at him with wide and horrified eyes, darting, and then softly,

“That’s not true,” Skywalker said then, his voice loud and strong, and Maul turned to look at him.

“Oh, please, tell me how I am mistaken,” Maul said, waving a hand, “by all means.”

“I do know worth,” Skywalker said, looking up at him with his eyes so… “I know what my mom is worth, I know what _I_ am worth,” he said, “I have had a number for as long as I can remember, and I know that the love that my mother gave me was worth more than all of the credits in the Galaxy. My mother let me go when she herself was still enslaved. My mother gave me my freedom…”

“And tell me, Skywalker,” Maul said softly, “did you have a choice of what you would become? Did you _choose_ to be a Jedi?”  
  
Skywalker was quiet for a moment, “When they first freed me, they didn’t tell me that I had a choice. They took me with them and brought me to the Council and… And when I first was asked about being a Jedi I didn’t…I didn’t know that I had a choice. They didn’t give me any options.”

Maul watched with smug satisfaction as Kenobi’s eyes closed, his expression turning pained.

“But they learned,” Skywalker rallied, frowning, stomping his foot. “They came back, and they told me that I _do_ have options. They freed my mom, they freed _me_ , and they will free _you_. I don’t…I don’t know what they’ll do if you decide you want to return to the Dark Side, but…” Skywalker’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t think that it’s a question they ever thought to ask themselves? I know that a lot of the problems have come from not asking questions. Maybe they should talk about it.”

“And when they tell you I am right?” Maul asked softly, “What then?”

Skywalker frowned for a moment, before looking up at him with those sad, sad eyes. “I don’t think you’re right, but I can’t prove you wrong. Give me, give _us_ the opportunity.”

Maul’s lips curled into a sneer before he gave a slight wave of his hand. “Please,” he said.

They left then, leaving Maul with the stirrings of satisfaction in his chest.

After a long moment where he carved their reactions into his skull, Maul left the flimsi where it lay and turned to begin working on his katas.

Maul had no use for something that did not exist.

* * *

Obi-Wan was _reeling_. 

The thought of Maul reforming and yet somehow still utilizing the Dark Side had not even occurred to him. He had not even thought that that would be possible, but placed in the framework Maul had… Would it not still be…

Obi-Wan couldn’t catch hold of the wayward thoughts they tumbled through his mind so quickly. He was aware of Anakin’s presence next to him, the single-minded determination burning in him brightly at the desire to prove Maul wrong, but… Obi-Wan genuinely wasn’t sure if he would be able to. Obi-Wan could not see the Council ever allowing the continued use of the Dark Side, but… If they did not, then were they not as bad as the one who had chained Maul to the Dark to begin with? They were merely chaining him to another prison.

Of course, that was assuming that Maul did decide to learn how to follow their arts, did become a Jedi and pass their Trials, and then still decide that he’d rather be a Sith.

Obi-Wan didn’t truly see that ever being the case, but that almost didn’t matter in the face of the principle of the thing. The principle being that if they trapped Maul in this… Then Maul was right.

They removed Maul’s ability to choose, and thus forced the prospect of either foreswearing the Force entirely – which would be a fate worse than death, Obi-Wan knew – or they would force him to become a Jedi he did not wish to be. Either way he was enslaved to their will.

Either way, Maul was still not _free_. Either way they would place him in just another prison, though one that was meant to be gilded this time.

But a cage was ultimately still a cage.

Obi-Wan led Anakin back into the Temple, shortening his stride after a moment so Anakin could keep up without running. It wasn’t fair for the much smaller boy after all, even if he did look a bit like he wanted to start running for the Council room as well.

As they entered the main Atrium, though, Obi-Wan found his step slowing, spotting Mace Windu, Yoda and…

“Chancellor Palpatine?” Obi-Wan whispered.

Chancellor Palpatine himself stood there, his hands perfectly clasped just so in front of him as he smiled at the two Senior-most of the Jedi Order, receiving a warm look in return. They looked as though they were just finishing up a conversation, and that was when the Chancellor turned and saw the both of them.

The warm look he sent their way reminded him of the way Qui-Gon looked at him, full of a subtle pride and a great deal of care. Obi-Wan ducked his head reflexively, seeing Anakin doing much the same, and they both approached.

“Well,” the Chancellor said, looking them both over with that warm smile on his face, “do my eyes deceive me or do we have _Knight_ Kenobi and a young _Padawan_ Skywalker.”

“Yes, sir,” Obi-Wan responded, with a nod and a returning smile. “I passed my Trials recently. Anakin was taken as my old Master’s Apprentice, but he is on a mission that we felt was too dangerous for a new Padawan. I am therefore taking over temporary duty as his Teacher.”

“Oh, how marvelous,” Chancellor Palpatine smiled, clapping his hands, “you must both be very proud of yourselves. I am certain that once Master Jinn returns your teaching will be quite enjoyable. How is Master Kenobi doing at teaching?” he sent a teasingly sly look towards Obi-Wan, before looking back to Anakin, “this is his first Apprenticeship is it not, regardless of how informal?”

“Good,” Anakin chirped, smiling back. “It is his first job as a Teacher, but I think he’s doing very well.”

Obi-Wan had to fight not to duck his head again. “I have had good Teachers,” Obi-Wan rallied, “that are willing to help when I ask for it, which…” he paused, looking to Masters Yoda and Windu, trying to think about how to close the topic of current conversation and bring his problem to them. “I actually…I would seek your advice now, Masters,” he said with a bow.

“It is good that you call upon older wisdom when your own fails you,” the Chancellor said with a smile, “it is why I have my aids, of course. They have been there for much longer than I have…” he trailed off, before quietly, “If I might make an _odd_ request?” There was a pause, the Jedi regarding each other before looking back to the Chancellor, who smiled at them before looking down at Anakin, “I do not wish to talk over you as though you are not here, my dear boy,” he said, “but I do believe I need to get approval first.” With that small statement he looked up at Obi-Wan and the two Masters. “I had hoped to get some time with Anakin to properly thank him for the saving of my home planet, and to see how well he was fitting in at your Temple.”

There was a pause, Obi-Wan looking over to the Masters, who in turn looked to Anakin.

Yoda’s gaze was firm as he stared at the Chancellor, “Know we shall, if anything were to occur.” His words were soft, but there was duracrete beneath them, and the Chancellor’s expression fell into a warm smile.

“Of course,” he stated, “I would be quite worried if you did not impose some sort of boundary. Would you permit me to move the conversation to that corner?” he asked, nodding to it. “If, of course,” he said then, looking to Anakin, “you do not mind, my boy. It is only that I realized that I had not had a moment to properly converse with you, and I realize that so much has changed it might be nice to get an ear that is… Ah…distant, perhaps, to everything that is happening. It must seem rather overwhelming.”

Anakin paused, looking to the others, before looking back at the Chancellor, his expression curious, and… Obi-Wan thought that might be a bit of interest. Well… 

Obi-Wan hesitated, looking to both Master Yoda and Master Windu, who after a moment gave a quiet, “I do not see why not,” Master Windu said, looking to Anakin, “unless you have any objections?”

“No,” Anakin answered, looking back to the Chancellor. “I’m sure I could take him,” the grin he gave was bright and amused and the Chancellor laughed aloud.

“I’m rather sure you could as well,” he agreed, “walk with me?”

Obi-Wan watched the two of them walk towards the corner that had been indicated, all of them watching carefully, listening as the Chancellor opened in the exact way he had suggested: an inquiry of how Anakin was liking his training. As soon as Obi-Wan was sure they were out of earshot he looked back to Masters Windu and Yoda, who turned their attention to him expectantly.

Obi-Wan took a breath, trying to compartmentalize everything and quietly began speaking, bringing up all of the points that Maul had made, watching as their gazes shuttered, burned, and finally the way they looked at each other.

“Meditate on this, we will,” Master Yoda said softly. “Agree we do with Maul’s assessment. A difficult choice this is.”

“But…” Obi-Wan closed his eyes, “is that not the problem? We are always coming back to this, on potentially throwing him back into uncertainty… We cannot keep _doing_ this, Masters.”

“You are right,” Master Windu agreed, “and we will not. No matter the answer, Maul will be freed.” He closed his eyes, “though I wish to do more research into the Sith before we bring this to the Council.”

Obi-Wan nearly fell in relief, “are you _sure_ , Master?”

“Yes,” Master Windu stated with a nod. “But it will take time. We will not bring it to the Council until I have more information, I believe,” he said, looking to Master Yoda, who gave a nod of agreement. “But the Nightsisters and Brothers are both very aligned with the Dark Side of the Force, and none of them have been a threat to the Galaxy outside of their own World. Maul would be acting according to his nature. Have faith Obi-Wan. We still do not know if that will be his choice.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes closed and he took this in for a moment before smiling.

He’d be able to prove Maul wrong after all.

* * *

Anakin smiled up at the Chancellor as he asked him about his training, how the Jedi were treating him, what he thought about the Temple, answering everything with a feeling of content. The Chancellor smiled, asked follow-up questions, laughed at his jokes, and generally seemed as though he really cared about his answers.

There was a small part of Anakin, the part that still could not believe that a Slave Boy from Tatooine was able to do so much, that part was in awe as the Chancellor _listened_ to that Slave Boy.

“So, tell me, what is your favorite part about being in the Temple?” Chancellor Palpatine asked, “it must be exciting being amongst the Jedi. I could have sworn there was a commotion a couple weeks ago.”

“There was, sir,” Anakin answered, “but it’s alright, we’re taking care of him.”

“That’s very good to hear, Anakin,” the Chancellor said with a very wide smile, “I am pleased to hear that you are taking care of it, now, please, what is your favorite part?”

“Well…” Anakin said, smiling, and answered, speaking of the kitchens, which Anakin had enjoyed more than he had thought, and then finally with a smile, the Chancellor wished him well, telling him that he was grateful that Anakin was settling in so well.

“I enjoyed our chat,” Chancellor Palpatine said with a smile finally, “we shall have to have another later on, should of course, your Masters deem it acceptable.”

“They’re not my Masters, sir,” Anakin responded with a smile, “they’re my Teachers.”

Anakin didn’t notice the slight flicker in the Chancellor’s smile as he turned and headed back to the other three, leading Chancellor Palpatine with him and saying goodbye with the rest of them, bidding him a pleasant morning. Then he looked back to Obi-Wan and the rest, his eyes wide.

“It’ll be okay, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “Everything will be okay.”

Anakin could have cried in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows kiss*


	10. Masters Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new life is brought to the temple. 
> 
> An old life is severed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things! Darth Vectivus was a real Sith, there is a quote taken directly from his Holocron, and the Holocron was lost but I'm going to use it because why not give it to the Jedi LOL. The parallels were too interesting to ignore and frankly he's a very interesting character. I thought he was from after ABY but I was apparently wrong? Thank you Gardeminer, Star Wars research is so confuzzling LOL 
> 
> Another note. There is canon evidence that the Jedi Temple has been breached without detection before. I have a fondness for eldritch horrors and wanton destruction and both do happen here. The Force probably doesn't work like that... And this will likely not happen again. But. Well. In this case it was needed. Too much knowledge and not taking care of loose ends is probably not going to fly. 
> 
> Maul is absolutely loose. 
> 
> The Minor Character Death is...well. Minor. 
> 
> Warnings: Torture, submission, references to abuse...actual abuse. The summary will change as of 12/3/2020. I've been waiting for a line that really reflects a bit more what this work is about and where it is going. I finally found it.

Qui-Gon had returned to the Temple shortly after Master Plo Koon, both of them carrying very different things.

Qui-Gon had a pot of herbs in his arms, flowering and fragrant.

Plo Koon had a small girl in his own arms, and Qui-Gon paused before they left the hanger. Plo smiled at him, hefting the child up a little higher, leading to a giggle, even as she took to staring at Qui-Gon with wide and curious eyes. It was always such a wonderful thing to bring a new life into the Temple, a beautiful glimpse of trust from the parents that let her go, and an honor on the part of the Jedi to raise their children, and ultimately to send them to the stars to protect others. They would always do their best to educate the young ones in their heritage, to remind them of where they came from. This young one would eventually go back to Shili, to participate in the hunting of an Akul. Though they were ultimately apart from the others, were Jedi – they were nonetheless still among them, a part of them, and would remain always a part of the greater Galaxy.

Apart and yet together, a greater part of the galaxy, a greater part of the Living Force.

“Well, hello there,” Qui-Gon said softly, shaking himself of his musings and smiling at the little Togruta that hid in Plo’s robes, peeking shyly out at him. Qui-Gon projected gentle warmth to her through the Force, showing her a bit of what made him. She peeked out a little further, before offering him a tiny wave.

“This is Qui-Gon Jinn,” Plo introduced softly, “Qui-Gon Jinn, this is…”

“Ahsoka Tano!” she called out, “What’s on your face?”

“Ahsoka,” Plo gently reproached, and she ducked, but Qui-Gon just laughed, waving a hand.

Qui-Gon beamed at her. “Hmm,” he said, “you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” Qui-Gon reached up and pointed to his nose, “Do you mean this?”

“No!” she called out, giggling.

“This?” he asked, pointing to his eyes.

“No~oo!” she laughed and reached out then, Plo carefully adjusting his hold so she wouldn’t fall and putting her hand on his beard, “this, this! What… _oh_ …” Qui-Gon watched as her eyes went very wide, running her hand over it gently. Qui-Gon tolerated the gentle petting for a moment, amusement filling him as she finally pulled her hand back, looking at it with wide eyes before looking back at him. “Soft!”

“It’s my beard,” Qui-Gon explained, “it’s like my hair,” he held it up so she could see and she gave a soft sound of surprise, reaching out as well, touching it. “Different species have different characteristics,” he enunciated slowly.

“Chara-terists…” she whispered, frowning. 

“Very close!” he praised. “It means we have different qualities or traits that are common among the same species. I am a human, and you are a Togruta, which do not have hair. Humans have hair, though we can cut it or shave it and therefore be as hairless as you, if only temporarily.”

“Cut?” she asked looking extremely concerned.

“It does not hurt them,” Plo said softly. “They do not have the ability to feel with their hair. It is not like you with your lekku,” Plo explained. “The only thing they can feel is on their scalp,” Qui-Gon indicated where this was, “because that is where the nerves are.”

“Nerves feel things,” she said with a nod.

“Very good,” Qui-Gon smiled, “I will leave you both to get settled. It was very good to meet you little Ahsoka.”

“Good meet you!” she cried back with a wave, and Qui-Gon left the hanger, hearing Plo quietly answering more questions.

Qui-Gon had a new Apprentice to find and see how he was doing. He honestly couldn’t wait.

* * *

Anakin was buzzing, Obi-Wan watching with a smile on his face as the younger boy nearly flitted from one end of the room to the other. They had finished their lessons for the day, and even started working on basic lightsaber forms, working very diligently to bring Anakin up to where he was supposed to.

Obi-Wan had started with Shii-Cho, as was necessary, and as Anakin worked through the form with Obi-Wan’s correction and slight movement, he explained how Qui-Gon had made Obi-Wan practice Shii-Cho exclusively, almost until he was eighteen.

“But it’s the basic form, isn’t it?” Anakin had asked, looking at him with wide eyes. “Were you that bad?”

Obi-Wan laughed, though a part of him… “No,” he shook his head, “Though there was a part of me that wondered for the longest time…” Obi-Wan took a breath, “this is the last thing I need to teach you, Anakin.”

Anakin had looked to him, his expression solemn, deactivating the saber at a gesture.

“Qui-Gon often has reasons, but he may not often say them. What I need you to promise me is that you will ask. If you begin to harbor…harbor resentment, and I am not saying you shall, but if you do, please promise me you will _ask_ him why he is making you do this.” Obi-Wan took a breath. “My Master put me on Shii-Cho because he found that many Padawans and Jedi Knights both forget that the most basic technique is the most important. He wanted me to know the basics so well that they would become instinct, to make me untouchable. Ultimately…he wanted to give me the training I needed to move in any direction that I wanted later on.”

“That’s smart,” Anakin had breathed, staring at him with wide eyes, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“It does,” Obi-Wan had agreed, “but my Master did not tell me until I was eighteen,” Obi-Wan had re-emphasized, his voice heavy. “And until that point I did not know why. I had thought that it was because he did not wish to train me.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan had replied with a nod, “there…there were a lot of difficulties in our original Padawanship. But we grew past them, and…the point is, Anakin, that he often does have reason…it is…merely reason that he may not always think of telling.” Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand then, looking him in the eye, “which is why you must promise me, Anakin, promise me that you will always ask. It is like you said to Maul, sometimes we do not even understand that there is reason to question, so don’t ever forget to ask.”

“I promise, Obi-Wan,” Anakin had nodded, and Obi-Wan had breathed easier than he had in a very long time.

Now, waiting for Qui-Gon to return… Obi-Wan was quite certain that things would turn out for the best, that this was the way things were meant to be.

Though…he would miss training Anakin. A part of him wondered whether or not he would still be allowed to train the boy periodically. A Master was prohibited from taking two Apprentices, but he did not recall anything about two Masters? Though, in this case it would be Teachers when it came to Anakin, and he would do well to remember that. Harmful habits, he supposed.

All thought was broken as the door slid open, and Qui-Gon entered. A part of Obi-Wan wanted to laugh at the sight of him carrying in some other odd souvenir from his travels, but Obi-Wan knew that these were the herbs that Anakin had been waiting for. The ones to make the Liquor of the Sands properly. Anakin helped Qui-Gon put it down, and then the man bent down to give Anakin a kiss to the forehead and wrap his arms around him tightly.

“A gift from your mother,” Qui-Gon whispered into sandy hair, and Obi-Wan pretended not to notice that Anakin was crying. “She is very proud of you,” he whispered. “And so am I. Thank you for choosing me as your Teacher.”

“Thank you,” Anakin whispered back, “thank you…”

Obi-Wan pretended not to notice his own tears.

* * *

Mace Windu came out of the Holocron room with a headache starting to pulse behind his eyes, sitting down next to Yoda and Depa. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the cool of the archive wall.

For a while there was silence, just letting Mace rest, to bask in the feeling of his once-Apprentice, and his once-Master in the Force. They were a necessary balm. Finally, he opened his eyes and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Not that one either.”

Yoda gave a soft hum, his head shaking. “Difficult to find, this is,” he said. “Not certain I am if it exists.”

“It may not,” Depa agreed softly.

“I do recall a mention,” Mace challenged softly, shaking his head. “I merely wish the Sith were not so stubborn.”

“It’s honestly a shame we could not have Maul himself look for the answer,” Depa said. “But I would not trust him without the collar.”

“It would be foolish,” Mace agreed softly. “He can’t be trusted without it, not yet.”

“Been to see him yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Depa said, bowing her head.

“The last time I went he had escaped,” Mace sighed, “have to work up to trying my luck again.”

“Have you been back after the first time?”

“Go today, I will,” Yoda answered. “Reading he is, a book I am most fond of.”

“I wonder how he feels about the fact that people keep going up to him to ask him about books,” Mace hummed, and there was a quiet chuckle.

“Go I will this time,” Yoda said, taking a breath, putting a hand on Mace’s shoulder. “Ki-Adi you should find, replace you he shall.”

“Thank you, Master,” Mace agreed with a nod, and stood, heading towards the exit and to find Ki-Adi. Being amongst Sith Holocrons for too long was detrimental, and Mace had been with them for the longest. He needed the break. Mace was certain, however, that there had been a mention of a Sith who, while not actively friends with Jedi, had nonetheless not acted against them, who had been content to study and had died prosperous, and, more importantly, loved.

It may be a meaningless search that was ultimately fruitless, but it was nonetheless the best way to prove to the young Sith that they had taken in that he did not necessarily have to choose to be their enemies. That he could live in such a way that they did not have to be enemies, and they would be willing to let him study.

The only thing that mattered…was the fact that there was no harm done.

Mace had a recollection of an old Holocron in his earlier studies as a Master speaking of such a thing, but he had not paid it much heed. Now…well. They had to cling to hope somewhere. And more importantly, so did Maul.

They needed to work on reassuring him that there was a choice at the end, that there was true freedom. The Sith Code spoke of breaking chains, of being free as the ultimate end. If they could not promote freedom in truth, then Maul would likely never be able to bring himself to trust in what they told him, and rightfully so. And ultimately, a Holocron belonging to a Sith that spoke of such things would likely be more believable than giving their own words. Though even without it, Mace and the rest of the Council did stand on the fact that they would absolutely let him make his ultimate choice, even if he did choose to stand in the Dark.

The Nightbrothers and Sisters had not been an idle mention. But, there was still a fear that coming from the Council it would not be believed, hence the hunt for that Holocron. In the end, though, Mace believed that it _did_ exist…

It was just a matter of finding it.

* * *

Plo had settled Ahsoka with her agemates, promising to return when he could and making sure that she was settled… Ahsoka had been so delighted at the sight of kids her age, very different children from herself, that it had not taken long until she had worn herself out, being set down for a nap by the crèche masters. They expected her to be asleep for a good long while, enough for Plo to make a stop to the prisons.

Plo did not wish to neglect their other charge, and he had decided as he was returning to the Temple that this was clearly what Maul was.

Maul was frankly dependent on them in a way that he was likely terrified by, not just for his basic needs – which he was – but also on their companionship and ultimately their kindness. Plo had _left_ , and while it was the right thing to do at the time, he had not said a word to Maul to explain _why_ he had left, he had just gone. It had been up to _Maul_ to ask where he had gone, whether or not he would be coming back, and that… There was a bravery to that question, and also a certain upset that burned within him.

Plo should have told him he would be coming back, explained why he was leaving, and what Maul’s actions had done to him, and the fact that he had not was a regret that he would put to rights. He would also be sure not to do such a thing again. 

Maul needed better from him.

The signs of abuse were piling higher and higher, and frankly Plo did not wish to add to more of them by not being steady in what he was teaching. They all needed to do that.

Plo entered the prison, walking to meet the Guards, who brought him to Maul’s new cell, and Plo was instantly struck by both how much smaller it was, as well as the lack of…everything. He wondered if they had discussed rewards for good behavior. Plo would ask.

Maul was in the middle of another workout session, he noted, taking in the fact that he was currently in the middle of a set of one-handed pushups, but what was different was the fact that he had a flimsi open in front of him, and seemed to be in deep concentration reading it. Plo settled himself before the double transparisteel, watching as he froze in plank position, his brows creasing at whatever he was reading, finding a smile rising up within him.

This was very different to the last time Plo had caught him reading.

Plo watched as Maul lowered a hand to turn the page, and before Maul could do so he gave a brief clear of his throat. The flimsi was suddenly sent flying towards him, Maul sliding into a defensive posture. Plo watched as the flimsi crashed against the transparisteel and fell to the ground below, giving a brief appreciative nod at the defensive tactic.

Maul took him in for a moment, his golden eyes sharp and focused, and then slowly some unknown expression slid across his face, and he opened his mouth, before closing it again, his gaze shuttering. Maul hesitated, before slowly standing upright, walking towards him. He finally settled in a kneeling position, and his expression…

Plo did not like how shut off he was, the way Maul’s gaze didn’t ever meet his.

Plo took a breath, “I wished to apologize.”

Maul’s gaze snapped to his then, and he watched as that expression finally shifted to something Plo recognized: shocked confusion.

“I left you without telling you why I was going, or that I would be back,” Plo said. “You were forced to ask on your own when it should have been made clear to you why I was leaving.”

“I killed…”

“You did,” Plo agreed before he could finish, giving a firm nod. “And I did need to take some time. I felt…I should have stayed with you, Maul,” Plo said, looking at him directly. “I should have helped you through the revelation you had been making, made sure that it was not something that could hurt you, or something you could use to hurt others.”

Maul stared at him.

Plo sighed, folding his hands before him carefully. “I understand that you still think of our talks as lies. As attempts to break you.” Maul’s chin tilted up slightly, his gaze dark, and… Plo closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry,” Plo said once again, his voice heavy. “I have failed to provide the basic things necessary to begin a true discussion.”

Maul was still silent, though when Plo opened his eyes again he found that the Zabrak was staring at him with that…

“I do not…” Maul hesitated, “I do not understand.”

Plo found himself straightening, watching him. “What do you not understand?”

Maul stared at him for the longest time, seeming to work himself up to say something, and then finally shaking his head.

“Please, Maul,” Plo said softly, “will you try? I would like to help.”

Maul held himself stiffly, before quietly, “Why would you apologize?” Maul asked finally, “it is…I acted…” Maul hesitated, finally burying his face in his hands for a moment, “I do not understand.”

“I made a frankly, very poor decision,” Plo stated, “when I decided to leave you without helping you…”

“I was going to escape before you left me,” Maul barked, his voice sharp. “I’d been planning on doing so from the very beginning. My every move had been calculated with the desire to escape,” Maul’s eyes were dark with intensity, his mouth pulled into a tight line. “Every stretch, every kata was working through the lingering effects of electricity. I have long practice with doing such a thing and I know what it feels like both when I am dealing with prolonged effects, and what it feels like to work it from me. I was going to escape whether you had stayed with me or not. This…self-flagellation should be beneath you and it is insulting to me. Do not presume that you have any influence upon my decisions, _Jedi_.”

Plo found his head tilting back slightly, a bit surprised by the sudden snarl, the way that Maul was looking at him, and found himself tilting his head. “I am not entirely certain you speak the truth,” Plo said very softly, staring at him, watching as Maul’s expression twisted, and Maul finally looked away. Plo took a breath, and even softer, deciding to not pursue his line of questioning, “what do you mean you have experience with the effects of electricity?”

Maul looked at him with such an expression of deep disdain it was almost scalding. “How are you meant to train a Sith, Jedi?” Maul asked darkly.

Plo’s chin tilted upright slowly. “Applying Sith Lightning to your own Apprentice should be beneath even a Sith. There are too many ways for it to go wrong, too much damage that it can…”

“And yet here I am,” Maul returned with a spread of his hands.

Plo hesitated, his eyes closing. “I am sorry.”

“Stop being sorry,” Maul snarled. “Stop apologizing. Stop…”

“Is it the _apologies_ that you do not understand?” Plo asked, a rising suspicion running through him. “Do you see yourself as above them?” Plo frowned, taking him in with quiet consideration, and slowly he felt his heart twist, “or do you see yourself as below them, unworthy of…”

Maul stood up and promptly left to the refresher and Plo had a feeling that if he could slam the door behind him, Maul would have.

Plo sat there for a moment, before he gave a soft sigh. To see yourself as _unworthy_ of an _apology_ … The easy defense of someone who had literally _tortured_ him…

Plo was not unaware of the power of electricity through the Force, his own Electric Judgement was, from what he understood, barely a fraction of a Sith’s own power, and yet it nonetheless was something he would only risk on a sentient when there was no other option. For Maul to have been subjected to it enough that he recognized not only when he was dealing with the effects of it, but how to work his way through it…

It was a picture Plo had not wanted painted.

Maul was a Sith since birth, unaware of his own body in a way that should have never been allowed, highly physically competent… Almost equally emotionally and socially stunted.

There was so much to do in order to work through all of this pain, and Plo could only pray that they started to do it _right_. Maul needed to talk to the Mind Healers. It was getting to the point where there was no other option.

The trick was convincing Maul of that. Plo, however, would not do such a thing now.

It was clear that Maul needed a break, that Plo had been pushing too much, and Plo would be sure to give him one. It was frankly the least he could do.

Plo gave a heavy sigh, standing up and straightening his robes, before looking at the book that had been thrown against the transparisteel.

He hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask him what he thought…

Plo shook his head and retreated. He would try again later after they had a chance to calm down. This was hard work, but in the end, so long as they could help Maul work his way through those issues that were plaguing him, so long as they could help him grow… Even if eventually he decided that he would remain Sith, even if he decided that he would leave and never come back, so long as he was able to heal…

It would be worth it.

Plo just had to have faith.

* * *

Maul sat on the floor near the sink, his head in his hands and his knees curled up to his chest.

Maul was a failure. He had all but admitted weakness, he had… Maul had walked away. He had walked away instead of forcing the other to believe that he was utterly unaffected. Instead he had only further confirmed the Jedi’s mistaken… Maul snarled, the warning from the collar halting his attempts to reach to the Force, to feed his tumult of emotions into it, to force them to heel.

Maul had never missed meditation more, had never desperately wished…

He was so utterly tangled up inside… Maul found his teeth once again sinking into his fingers, desperately trying to make his mind fall silent. Please, please…

Maul did not want to think anymore.

Maul did not want to remember the concern, the gentle way that Plo had looked at him, the… Maul bit harder, feeling the skin split, tasting the blood that rose up and…

Maul spat, balling his hands into fists, removing his hands from his mouth and cursing his weakness. Maul was so tired. He did not understand. He did not…

Maul did not understand, and he was tired of not understanding.

Maul was _tired_ …

In the end he just sat there, his head buried in his robes that had replaced the ones he had outgrown, the soft plip of blood the only sound that accompanied him. Finally, minutes or hours later, Maul had no idea which, he forced himself to his feet, walking towards the door to the refresher. He pushed the button to open the door, using perhaps more force than necessary, feeling the pull on his skin, taking in the blood staining the door and went to take a step out.

Maul looked down to see Jedi Master Yoda sitting before the transparisteel dividers, his legs crossed, and his eyes closed in meditation. Those large eyes finally opened, looking up at him, his mouth creasing in a slow smile.

Maul closed the door.

He then promptly banged his head against it, cursing himself for yet more signs of weakness, more… Maul was on his knees, closing his eyes, fighting desperately for control for… Maul found a hand slowly moving towards a temple horn, shakily hooking his fingers around it, and pulled…

Maul felt himself sink, a rush of warmth, of… Maul still did not know how to explain it, did not know how to describe what it was like, the only thing he knew is that he felt the beating of his hearts slowly calm, the rapid-fire pounding of anxiety, fear, and anger fading. Maul had remembered Eeth calling it a self-sooth, but he had never… For a moment Maul felt absolutely nothing, and when he let go that feeling remained.

Maul took a breath, shuddering, reaching up to touch his horn yet again, before closing his eyes. It felt like more weakness, but he did not let himself fall into that cycle again. He could not.

Maul slowly forced himself up, frowning, fighting for that composure that he knew he had, and finally opened the door.

Yoda’s eyes opened again, and this time Maul exited the refresher.

“Pleased to see you, I am,” Yoda hummed, smiling up at him.

Maul blinked.

“Searching we are,” Yoda said in the matter of fact manner of a report, “for a Sith Holocron that was found. A Holocron we believe you should see.”

Maul stared at him for a long moment, “Must all you Jedi be so confusing?” Maul found himself asking. Yoda gave a soft laugh, smiling up at him, his eyes glowing with amusement.

“Apologize, I…”

“Please, don’t,” Maul said softly, dropping down in front of him, and there was something so tired in his voice even he could hear it. 

“To the Mind Healers would you speak?” Yoda asked softly.

“Why?” Maul asked, his voice sharp. “They are yet more Jedi, are they not? More people trying to force their…” Yoda’s expression had saddened considerably, his ears lowering, and Maul found himself trailing off, completely unsure why.

“Help you, they would,” he said softly. “Force you, they will not. Made the attempt they have numerous times to talk to you. Forced you, yet have they?” Maul looked to the side. “Speak to what you do not trust, you will not.” Yoda shook his head. “Sorry I am for how difficult this is. Easier I wish it was.”

Maul shook his head and without thinking found himself reaching for the flimsi in front of him. It was only as red dripped from his fingers, plipping on both the ground and the book that he realized he had made yet another miscalculation.

Maul watched with a feeling of creeping dread as Yoda’s eyes widened slowly, taking in the blood on his hands, before those large eyes focused on him, and their gaze was…

“An outlet, I believe you need, Darth Maul,” Yoda said softly. “Trapped you have been for too long,” he shook his head. “Behaved well you have, perhaps…continue behaving well, finish that book, and take you we shall to the Archives of the Jedi. Guards you shall have, Mace Windu and myself, but allowed out of this prison you shall be.”

Maul found his hands shaking, staring at Yoda with a sort of…

“Too long without reward you have been,” Yoda shook his head. “A request you may make, small, no weapons, no droids, but…”

Maul licked his lips, “Not even…” he hesitated, “a staff, just… _wood_ , a…”

Yoda’s expression turned thoughtful. “Keep it in mind we shall,” Yoda promised. “Too soon it is to provide you with a weapon, but later? Perhaps, behave you do, make no attempts to escape, allow yourself to learn…and it will be provided. The training dojo perhaps we will take you to as further reward for behaving.”

Maul found himself nodding without really even thinking about it, though now that he had he was honor-bound to follow it.

“Something else _now_ , would you like?” Yoda asked.

Maul hesitated, thinking, he…Maul did not know what…

“A…” Maul swallowed, “is it…” he closed his eyes, “may I have the…the plant back please?”

When Maul opened his eyes, Yoda was beaming at him.

“The plant brought shall be,” Yoda agreed, and pointed to the book. “Leave you to rest I shall, interested I am, in your thoughts on that book.”

Maul looked to the book that he had not thought that he would like…and quietly, “adequate.”

Yoda laughed, and gave a little nod, “more specific I request you be later. The plant either way shall be brought.”

Maul followed the back of the aged Jedi Master as he left with his gaze, and found himself once again confused…

* * *

Mace Windu had found it.

It had taken a nearly two weeks, combing the archives for it, but once he had found it, it made sense why it had taken so long.

It did not _feel_ like a Sith Holocron. Now that he held it in his hands, he recalled why it had been such a shock to find that the man it had belonged to was very Sith in almost every way but one. In the line of Bane, the man had not been killed by his own Apprentice. He had killed his Master, as was normal, though he had done so with a mindset that it was _business_.

His own Master had not been teaching him to his full extent, so he had killed her in order to continue his studies and become a true Sith Lord. Ultimately, though, he had returned to the Asteroid where he had first discovered the power of the Dark Side, submerging himself into it and eventually finding an Apprentice that he taught everything to. His death was gentle, surrounded by friends, by family, and though the Apprentice he had trained had not killed him, eventually the Apprentice had continued on in the Sith tradition, and was ultimately of the line that led to Maul himself.

The story of Darth Vectivus was a very interesting blip. 

It was also something he would be taking to Maul personally.

It had been long enough. Mace Windu was ready to try his luck again.

Mace exited the Holocron room holding his prize, smiling to Saesee and Eeth both, who sank, relieved against the wall, before both standing up to look at it. He handed it to Saesee, who held it for a moment, feeling it, before passing it over to Eeth.

“It really is little wonder we could not find it,” Eeth said shaking his head. “It feels nothing like it should.”

“I feel a bit as though we walked past it quite often,” Mace agreed with a nod. “It seems to avoid attention. If it was not for the fact that I had been feeling for anything that was abnormal I do not think I would have found it.”

“I’m glad you did,” Saesee said with a shake of his large head, “the search was growing tiresome. I am pleased, however, that it does exist.”

“It will be good to give him proof from a party he is likely to listen to,” Eeth said. “Are you going to allow him to open it?”

Mace was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“It must feel like a missing limb,” Saesee frowned. “I have long wished that it was not necessary, but I still fear that it would be inviting trouble. Maul still does not trust us.”

“Do _we_ show that we trust _him_?” Eeth asked.

“You have,” Mace returned and Eeth blinked. “Did you not enter his cell? Were you not able to file his horns?”

Eeth paused for a moment before giving a sharp nod. “I would be prepared to go with you if you believe it would encourage him to not attack. Perhaps we should bring Plo as well?”

Mace thought for a moment, thinking of Yoda’s talk of possible self-harm, of the way Plo had slowly begun to talk to Maul once again. He had another charge in the crèche, making sure that little Ahsoka was integrated, and growing healthy, but Plo had worked hard on managing the two. He had spoken of Maul being a charge of _all_ of them, and Mace agreed with the statement.

“Master Yoda and Plo as well I believe,” he said with a shake of his head. “I do not wish to overwhelm him with new people, and I believe the four of us together would be enough of a deterrent with the Temple Guardians that he would be reasonably compliant. I further believe that the opportunity to have the collar off for even a short while would be a powerful incentive for good behavior.”

“Agreed,” Eeth said.

Saesee gave a bow of his head. “I wish you all luck. Depa and I will be visiting him tomorrow. The ones among us on the Council that have not seen him yet have decided on a rotation. We have been complacent for too long. He should know all of us.”

“I am pleased,” Eeth said. “The more time we spend with him, the more he gets to know us, the more I believe he will grow to trust us.”

“The more we can trust him,” Saesee nodded, sighing. “Good luck gentlemen…”

Mace commed Yoda as Eeth commed Plo, and there was an agreement to meet at the prison, a feeling of general relief rising in them. This was what was needed. This was a good step in the right direction and there was hope that there would be more steps forward.

Mace walked with Eeth and waited by the prison entrance for the two Masters, talking quietly and enjoying the sunshine, such as it was. The gardens around the prison were perhaps one of the better features. It was a good way to combat the oppressive darkness within, and there was a _lot_ of darkness, remnants of Sith both old…and new. Mace closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask within the feeling of the Living Force, and then he felt Yoda and Plo approaching.

Plo smiled when Mace opened his eyes to greet him, accepting the Holocron when Eeth handed it to him and laughed aloud. “No wonder we had such difficulty,” he smiled, passing it to Yoda. “It is rather focused on hiding.” 

Yoda gave a soft hum, feeling it. “Much to learn from this Darth Vectivus we have,” he said finally. “On approach and philosophy.”

“Do you believe we should start asking Maul of his own philosophy?”

“Once speaking to us he is,” Yoda agreed. “Too suspicious, too sure of treachery he is,” Yoda shook his head sadly.

“I’m hopeful that this might provide us the proof we need that we do not mean him harm, that we do truly have his best interest at heart.”

“Hope we can,” Yoda agreed with a nod.

They entered into the prison together without another word spoken. Unified and ready for what might turn out to be either very good or very bad.

They approached the prison to find…

“Oh my…”

The Guards were standing by Maul’s cell, and Maul himself was…

Mace watched with his eyebrows slowly rising to new heights as Maul literally bounced from one wall to the other, finding corners and crevices, boots and hands both making contact when needed.

“He hasn’t touched the ground in ten minutes,” one of the Guards said, looking to them.

“I think this is a sign we absolutely must get him out of this cell,” Plo said with a thoughtful hum, “he’s literally bouncing off the walls.”

“That’s actually rather impressive without Force involvement,” Eeth said.

“I think we should offer more than the archives,” Mace said, “put him in training rooms. Even while remaining in the collar there’s no doubt that he would benefit from the exercise, and I believe he might actually enjoy it…”

Maul jerked at the sound of his voice, bracing himself in the corner and turning properly to face them. Golden eyes flashed from one to the other, before he focused back on Mace with a frown. “You bastardized Juyo,” he snarled.

Mace’s brows shot up higher, even as Plo gave a garbled sound that reminded Mace of a stifled laugh, Yoda and Eeth both giving quiet hums that sounded a bit like the same.

Maul dropped to the ground then and there was a quiet grumble from the Guards, even as they left. Mace had a feeling they had a bet going and a few of them had lost. It wasn’t really his business. The usual two remained unmoving to either side, bracing.

Maul frowned as he approached, taking them all in, one to the other and finally, “is this another execution?”

“No,” Mace said, “there will be no more threats of execution.” Maul’s frown deepened, looking to Mace specifically. “If your loss at my hands is something you cannot get over…”

“You won fairly,” Maul interrupted, stiffly, looking a bit like the words were spat from his mouth, “I mind what you did with the form. It is not…” Maul frowned, “you made it _empty_. There is no burn within you, it is only cold.” Maul’s frown deepened. “How clinically you must pass judgement upon the ones you deem fit to die…”

“Would you prefer I kill them in a fit of passion?” Mace asked him.

Maul’s brows rose slightly, before he huffed a sound, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “ _Jedi fallacy_.”

“Darth Maul,” Plo said then, drawing their attention to him, “though I am interested in speaking to you about the differences in Forms and how precisely we are mistaken, we have another reason to visit you.”

“We have a gift,” Mace said, and held out the Sith Holocron, watching as Maul’s golden eyes fell upon it, lighting up with curiosity and interest, before just as suddenly dimming.

“It is useless to me without my connection to the Force,” Maul returned.

“Right, you are,” Yoda said, “come we have so access _you_ may have.”

Maul took this in for a moment, and Mace watched the thoughts jumble together in golden eyes, before he looked up at them, and there was… Hope pierced out at them, fragile and broken and… “You…you are going to remove the collar?”

“For as long as it takes for you to listen to the Holocron,” Mace said. “For as long as it takes for you to understand that we truly mean no falsehood, that we are honest when we say that you _will_ have a choice.”

Maul stared at them, taking them in, and there was a moment when he seemed to tremble, realizing that there was no way he could overpower all of them, and simultaneously recognizing that he would be surrounded by Jedi. But…but…

“Please,” Maul said, and his fingers moved towards the collar he couldn’t touch, the small forcefield that bubbled around Maul’s skin and prevented his fingers from touching it, “please take it off… I will…I will _listen_ , I won’t…I’ll behave, just _please_ …”

Mace had not been expecting that reaction, though he felt that he rather understood.

“Back up, please,” Eeth said, his voice gentle, and Maul immediately did so, backing from the transparisteel, his fingers fisting. Mace rather thought it was to hide his trembling. The Guards opened the first door, letting them enter, and the door hissed close behind them. A moment later the door before them opened, and they finally walked in. Maul stared at them for a moment, his expression so…

Maul lowered himself to his knees, bowing his head in a gesture that was as equally automatic as it was submissive…

Eeth did not hesitate, walking forward, and crouching down before him. Maul kept his head bowed. “I need you to tilt your chin up,” Eeth said gently after a moment of looking at the collar, “it’s beneath.”

Maul hesitated, and there was a moment when those hands once again fisted, but he finally tilted his chin up, baring his throat, and Eeth reached out with gentle fingers, carefully reaching out with both Force and bio-signature to press against the deactivation. The collar fell away with a hissing click, Eeth pulling it away in his hands, Maul’s eyes closed, and then there was _Dark_.

Mace had never been so close to close to a Dark Side user when their ability unfolded, and it was an experience he would probably never forget.

The Dark seemed to seep from the kneeling figure before them like oil spilling across the ground, slowly pooling out, only to ignite, catching fire and burning, rising up in a violent storm that for just a moment caused Eeth to tense, but it was pulled back, pulled in… And then it just **_burned_**.

Maul took a breath, another, the burning feeling rising and falling with his breath, before he opened his eyes.

The eyes that Mace had always seen as golden burned with Sith yellow, red burning around the iris, as though his eyes themselves had caught fire. He blinked, and the burning continued when he opened them.

True to his word, Maul made no motion to attack, merely breathed, and his head finally fell forward. That submissive posture was back, and softly, “Thank you.”

Eeth backed away, taking the collar with him, and after a moment they looked at each other, before they sat around him, though none of them positioned themselves at his back. Those Sith eyes glanced around him, taking in their positions, and Mace tossed him the Holocron.

Maul caught it with the Force, and Mace had a feeling that it was just because he could. It wasn’t something he blamed him for.

Maul brought it to his hand, taking it gently and staring at it for a moment, feeling it out, before his eyes closed, and he reached.

Mace settled himself, content to watch and to listen. It was a lesson he needed to remind himself of as well.

It was a hope.

* * *

Maul could not have explained the sheer extasy of the return to the Dark Side if he tried. It felt as though an arm had regrown, as though some part of him that had been cut and cauterized had suddenly burst through the skin, regrowing and reforming into the shape that he knew, that he _needed_. Maul had breathed with it, reaching out to the men around him, feeling their auras next to his, the tranquil pools so strange to his own crackling fire, but Maul could _feel_ the power.

Maul knew that those still pools were _deep_.

Maul knew then in a way that he had suspected, that if he were to attempt to come up against them that he would be overwhelmed and destroyed. Maul was not yet so willing to seek his own death, not when their compassion – their weakness, was still so obvious. Maul had released the building Dark, letting it fade to how it always sat within him, and then felt the object thrown to him.

Catching it with the Force in the way that he had always done, had been _meant_ to, was like a sip of cold water after being in the desert, the most refreshing and beautiful thing he had ever experienced. Maul felt the Sith Holocron, feeling the Dark within and gave a soft hum, recognizing that for as Dark as it admittedly was, there was a part of it that seemed to try and hide itself from him. Maul squeezed his hand around it, forcing it to recognize him as Master, and then forced his Power into it.

Maul watched as it opened, feeling the Dark that seeped out to join his, and then finally a hologram of a man appeared. Human…and of considerable girth that suggested both strength and sloth, an interesting combination that seemed to be in line with the oddly dark and yet…not. Contradictions. Contradictions and yet… There was _power_ there. It was strange, too because Maul was of the same line. They were both of Bane.

“My name is Darth Vectivus,” the man said, his voice soft, smooth and Maul’s eyes narrowed. “My Master was Darth Invictus, and we were both of Bane.” He gave a soft hum, amused, “before I killed her,” he laughed loudly, before continuing quietly, “as was my lot, though admittedly it was a sore job. Her refusal to teach me fully necessitated her death. My own Apprentice has not wanted for knowledge _or_ power, and will far exceed me, I believe, in the end. I will bring _pride_ to my Line.”

Maul found his hold on the Holocron tightening just so, his body tensing as he watched the man laugh, amusement and sharpness in his voice.

“There is knowledge within this Holocron, those who come of Bane, though you may find it less interesting than most,” he grinned, “there is power to be found, but similarly there is also caution. My interests remain purely in business and knowledge. I became Sith to study the Sith and I have learned much… I will teach you of my Phantoms, but I will also tell you of the ethics that have made me…” he hummed, “ _prosper_ … In a time when our Line remains in shadows and Dark, it is amusing to walk among Jedi that have no knowledge of what I am. I have no fear of them, and they have no fear of me. The trick is to find what tempts you and…ignore it. The Dark will try and lure you to it, to make you grab for more than you can hold – but like all things you must never borrow money from someone powerful enough to make you pay, as it were, and the Dark _will make you pay_ …”

Maul listened quietly as Darth Vectivus spoke, as he talked of deals and money, and weaved his understanding of the Sith through it. Ultimately, he listened to a man with power and wealth speak of being _content_ with his power and wealth and the way he sought to share it, while also _maintaining_ it. His Apprentice was spoken of with fondness, and he spoke of the knowledge that he was bequeathing the Muun, the power that he would gain. It became very clear listening to him that he sought to stand his Apprentice at his side as an Equal. It was also clear that he was considered beloved by many that were underneath him.

The way he spoke of making his workers believe fully that he trusted them, while at the same time Watching Them was yet another layer of contradiction and yet…sense. If they believed you trusted them, they were more likely to live up to that trust, and those who didn’t live up to it would be caught. Darth Vectivus laughed more than once at someone who snitched on another worker for the simple fact that they had loved him enough to make sure that their fellow worker’s deeds wouldn’t hurt Vectivus himself.

Maul listened to the talks of Dark, to the way he spoke of balance, of finding how much you could Take before you were forced to Owe…and _wondered_.

The first lesson finally faded, and Darth Vectivus signed off with a quiet reminder to learn his limits, that there _was_ such a thing as losing himself to the need to be needlessly cruel, that ultimately providing true benevolence to the ones around you and beneath you would ultimately end with you reaping more than you sowed. That he could just as easily sow discord and death, and ultimately reap much the same. It was safer, therefore, and _wiser_ , to study power and gain much – but always provide for the ones around you, enough to keep them sated…

It gave you the potential to gain even more. Ultimately, though, the Sith spoke of breaking chains, for as much as some had sought slavery, in the end it had sent them tumbling from their perch. Break their chains – and they will love and worship you forever.

The Holocron closed, and Maul sat…and he thought. He was broken from his thoughts rather violently by a soft hum, and Maul found himself reacting before he had full ability to connect what he was doing, and who he was doing it to. His Push was easily dissipated in a way that made every instinct Maul had turn to _flee_ , and he found himself moving backwards before he had truly thought to do so, falling prostrate at another soft nose, his forehead pressed to the ground, his hands much the same.

The dread that filled him pooled with confusion and terror, but it was not enough to fully draw power from, not enough to combat the sheer power that had brushed up against his. Now more than ever, Maul was sure that he had made a _mistake_.

* * *

Yoda had listened to Darth Vectivus speak with a critical ear, noting the moments the man had spoken of gain, of the harsh way he punished those who stood against him, of the ruthlessness he still possessed… But he also listened to the quiet words speaking of temperance, of power gained at the gain of another, and found himself believing truly that Mace had been right in suggesting that this was something Maul needed to hear.

When the first lesson had finished, he had watched Maul close the Holocron, the way those Sith eyes had darted, clearly lost in thought. Yoda had not realized just how lost in thought he had been until Maul wound up lashing out at the soft hum of thought Yoda had made. Yoda had been quick to dissolve the Push, letting it flow harmlessly around him, and that had been what further awakened Maul to the reality of not just what he had done, but who he had done it to.

But even so, Yoda would not have wished to see the way Maul’s expression shifted from start, to terror, and then to pool into dread, the way the young one had fallen back, had recoiled, shifting to fall completely prostrate when he seemed to realize there was nowhere to run…

“Apologies, I knew not what I was doing, please, I had not meant to attack I…please, Master, please…”

That steady stream of words would have been enough to break him, even without the way Maul called him ‘Master,’ and he could see in the way that Plo seemed to crumble, the way Mace’s head tilted ever so slightly up, the way Eeth’s hands balled into fists…

“Peace, Darth Maul,” Yoda rumbled out softly, carefully breathing it out, “peace,” he hummed, “offense I do not take. Startled you I did, a mistake it was on your part, and mine. Your reflexes, to fight they go. Done is no harm,” he kept his voice as gentle as possible, trying to reach out to that Force Signature, trying to gently sooth the madly flickering flames, the sparks of terror and… It drew in to Maul when he brushed it, as quickly as though he had snuffed it out. “A threat you are not, a threat _I_ am not. Punishment you shall not receive. Peace, Darth Maul, peace,” he repeated.

Maul remained prostrate for a moment, and Yoda wondered how much of that might have been from humiliation, and how much of it had been realization at what Maul had called him. Though, this also boded very ill.

Maul had recognized him not as a stronger threat to his own Master…he had recognized him as an _equal_.

It took a longer minute for Maul to finally move to sit upright, to resume his kneeling posture with his hands before him, with his head still bowed. Those eyes remained looking to the ground, however, never once rising up to meet them. It felt like a large step back, though it did not remain that way for long.

“What do you think, Darth Maul?” Plo asked him gently, guiding the conversation away from what just happened. Working to carefully steer it away from any possible humiliation, bringing his thoughts from what had just happened to what they had seen. “This Darth Vectivus, have you heard of him?”

Maul’s eyes remained on the ground, but the look on his face turned once again more towards thoughtful, “No,” he finally answered.

“What did he feel like to you?”

There was a pause as Maul thought this question through, and finally, quietly, “Juxtaposition. A…Contradiction.”

“I can see that,” Eeth said softly. “He felt powerful.”

“…Yes,” Maul finally agreed after a long pause, “he did…”

“The way he speaks of his Apprentice,” Mace said thoughtfully. “It is clear that he holds great regard for him.”

Maul was quiet for a moment, before giving a sharp nod, though those burning eyes had found Mace’s again, something sharp in their depths. They walked on dangerous ground; Yoda was afraid. Could see it in the way the lines of Maul’s body tensed. They needed to be careful.

“I do not know what you expect to gain from me,” Maul said, his voice so soft and yet so sharp. “I do not know why you act as though I am not loyal. Do you expect for me to kill my own Master?”

Yoda found his head tilting back, a feeling of mounting dread within him. He savored the feeling for a moment, tracing it back to the fear that this was ultimately a losing battle, and breathed it out. Maul was loyal, Yoda believed, primarily because he knew no other way to be. Maul had been raised Sith, raised by this Master who broke and yet lifted him. Who expected Maul to _grovel_ , but taught him to wield strength enough to be a _threat_.

Who turned Maul into a contradiction manifest in a way that Darth Vectivus was not. Darth Vectivus ultimately drew his lines in the sand and knew who and what he was, and what he wanted. Maul did not know who he was, he did not even know how his body worked, and the foundation that he ultimately built himself on – his Master – was likely to be unstable. This was not Darth Vectivus who spoke of his Apprentice with love and what sounded like true devotion, this was something else. This was something that ended with groveling and pain. The Sith taught pain, and Maul worked through and with pain, but there was something in those moments of weakness that looked a lot like breaking pieces.

Maul was walking upon the edge of a vibroblade. Eventually he would fall. 

Yoda dearly hoped that they could catch him before he hit the bottom, before he shattered… Though if he did, if Maul did fall… They would help him piece himself back together. They would help him rebuild.

Yoda breathed the fear and dread out and did not once think of it again.

Their path was set.

* * *

Eeth felt the heaviness of the collar in his hands, knowing that they were rapidly approaching the moment when it needed to be replaced, even while feeling the heavier realization of Maul’s statement. The quiet question of what they hoped to _gain_. Here then was where they needed to speak carefully, but speak true.

“We do not wish for you to kill your Master,” Plo said finally, “we want nothing from you other than that you are free.”

“Then _free me_ , Jedi,” Maul said easily.

“But would you _truly_ be free?” Eeth asked him. “Would you not simply walk into another prison?”

Maul stared at him with an expression of deepest disdain.

“I submit,” Plo said softly, “that you do not recognize you are imprisoned because you know no other way to be.”

“Your freedom, your ability to choose with understanding we wish,” Yoda said.

“This Darth Vectivus was a Sith that did not utilize the Dark Side to do evil…”

“And if I make my choice to follow the Dark, if I make my decision to leave and do harm?”

“Then it would be a choice _you_ make, and we would meet you in combat,” Eeth said. “There are no choices without consequence and our conscience would be clear because you were given the choice.”

“Mourned you would be,” Yoda added softly.

“But innocents would be spared.”

Maul took this in for a moment.

“But we do not think that this necessarily needs to be so,” Mace added quietly before he could think too much, before Maul could turn all his thoughts inward and stew upon them. Too much had gone wrong due to this. “We believe, Maul, that if given the full understanding that you have been denied, if given the power of choice and knowledge…you would not make that choice. We believe you can do better.”

Maul stared at him for a long moment, his gaze finally falling.

Eeth felt the heaviness of the collar, his eyes closing, “What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

Maul was so quiet they almost didn’t think he would speak again, and then softly, “I am thinking that you are mistaken.” Maul looked up then, and those Sith eyes burned. “I cannot do better.”

“Maul,” Plo said softly, “all you have to do is just let us teach you…”

“You speak as though I do not already _have_ a Master,” Maul said softly, and for once, Eeth could see something else in those eyes, could feel something else burning in that aura that flickered and shifted. “You speak as though I have a _choice_.”

That something was _fear_.

“Maul…” Mace said finally, softly. “Your Master…”

“Do not speak of what you do not know,” Maul whispered, and his voice was so… “You do not know my Master. You do not know what he would do…”

Maul fell silent then, looking a bit like he had said too much, his hands balling into trembling fists, his eyes darting as though…

“You are _safe_ here,” Plo said leaning closer. “Your Master has not dared to come against us, has not entered the Temple to contest us… There is no threat to you, Maul. Not with us.”

Maul stared at him then, his gaze sharp, “I wish that were so,” he breathed, so light, so light.

Eeth felt a creeping dread starting to gnaw at him, but he slowly breathed it out. They were getting somewhere. This was genuine progress, this… This felt like hope.

Maul seemed to huddle further in on himself, his body shrinking, and they looked at each other.

“Maul,” Mace said softly, “is there anything we can do to convince you that you are safe?”

Maul looked to Mace then, and a smile slowly stretched up his mouth, baring teeth, those eyes blazing. “No.”

There was a slow nod and Eeth let out a sigh. “We will attempt regardless. Would it help if we doubled the Guard?”

“Triple it, if you wish,” Maul shrugged. “They will all die.”

“Will _you_?”

“I am _loyal_ ,” Maul returned, and his voice was dark and heavy and… There was fear there.

There was _fear_.

Eeth found his fingers digging into the collar, for once wishing truly that they could remove it, that it could stay off, but that promise of loyalty was still there. Maul would still hurt and kill the ones around him if he could, and with the Force there was little doubt that he could. Maul would kill the Guards.

His Master was unlikely to be able to, and they needed to work on the threat _before_ them.

“We will triple it,” Mace agreed softly with a nod, “but we must leave you.”

Maul hesitated, taking this statement in, and then his eyes were suddenly drawing towards Eeth, to the collar, and Eeth watched as those pupils constricted, fear and…

“I’m sorry,” Eeth said, and he knew that his voice was filled with it, “if there was a way for us to trust you, I would not put it back on…”

“Please,” Maul whispered, “please, I…do not, do not, I do not wish…please do not cut it off, do not, please please please…”

“I wish that we could,” Plo said and his voice shook, “oh Maul I wish that we could…”

“I need, I need…please, just…please, please let me meditate, please, just…please let me center, let me gain…please please please,” and Maul had gone back to begging, back to that fear, and he was prostrate, desperate, his aura crackling and…

“Yes,” Eeth immediately said, “yes, you may mediate, we will remain with you, please… Please allow yourself to center. We…have been lax in that. You will be allowed to center,” he said, and reached out, very carefully looping his fingers on one of his horns, carefully pulling down. Maul let out a breath, trembling, and Eeth let go. “We shall start allowing you to meditate more frequently. More of the Council will be sent on rotation. It has been a mistake…”

“It has been,” Mace agreed.

“Grave harm we have done to you.”

“Forgive us, please,” Plo said.

Maul shook, but did not look back up, and it took a moment where they found themselves centering in solidarity, allowing themselves to slip into meditation before they felt the… It was interesting, Eeth thought, feeling what he thought had to be a form of Sith meditation.

It was like throwing fuel on a fire, that blaze burning, rising, shifting with every thought, everything fed into it. When it was done, that fire burned steady, those flickers of smoke and fear slowly evening…

The difference was stark, and Eeth felt more despair at realizing how off-centered Maul had truly been. When Maul looked up, he looked much better, and there was no flicker of unease.

The certainty was back.

Eeth was both pleased, and saddened to see it.

Maul submitted to the collar without complaint, watching them go with eyes that had turned back to gold…

Eeth took a deep breath upon exiting the building, and felt the others lean up to them.

The lingering claws of dread were gone. The Living Force surrounded them.

Maul was safe. 

* * *

Tabak found himself standing among the other guards, his head tilted back slightly as he listened to Maul going through yet another set of pushups.

Maul had been consistently moving after his meeting with the Jedi, an almost nervous energy buzzing through him that he couldn’t shake. Tabak thought he could understand. Being reunited with the Force only to have it be taken away… Tabak looked back in the cell to take in the much younger Zabrak remaining in a plank position, sweat trickling from his forehead, beading on the ground below.

Tabak had lost the bet due to outside interference, and swore on the Force itself that if Maul had been allowed to remain literally climbing the walls he could have remained in the air for another ten minutes. The way he remained in that plank for what had to be five minutes was part of the reason for this.

There were several good things that had come from the meeting today, and that was the fact that Maul’s more self-destructive habits seemed to have stopped for the time being. Tabak was certain that the other was biting his fingers, or something to that end, but he had never caught him at it, and it was not something he could approach the other about.

Temple Guards were meant to remain impartial, but this…this was _difficult_.

This was literally watching a young member of his own species – cousin species, perhaps, but ultimately still his own – that had no idea what it was to even _be_ a Zabrak. This was watching a teenager that should know better. A teenager that had been so abused and so twisted that he feared and loved his Master for he had no other way.

Tabak found himself quietly rooting for him in the quieter moments, even after what he had done to his friends… There was truth to the matter that Maul did not know any better, and Tabak was not going to force the other to debase himself for an apology. Tabak could only hope that he would grow. Tabak had been the one to get Maul’s plant back, having been one of the ones listening to the conversation, the quiet request, and the talk of Darth Vectivus.

It had been a very illuminating conversation, a very interesting lesson, but ultimately the best thing had been bringing Maul’s plant back. He had entered the room holding it within his hands, waiting until Maul had taken it from him. Tabak had been able to give him a slight bow before retreating, watching as Maul simply held the plant for the longest time, looking both confused and uncertain, and the slightest bit…grateful?

Tabak had known then that he wanted nothing more than for Maul to grow, that this position being able to watch the Zabrak learn and change was worth it, and be grateful that he had agreed to be among the ones that were willing to _die_.

His commlink crackled to life then, and Tabak listened to Jedia’s voice in his ear as she asked softly, “ _Do you think he can do it for another ten?”_

“Twenty,” Tabak answered, amused, knowing that she wasn’t anywhere near him and yet had properly guessed Maul was still in the middle of pushups.

“ _Bet_.”

There was a pause as Tabak reported that Maul had fallen into another set, and they idly kept track of the time. Maul generally did not attempt to make conversation, content to act as though they did not exist in a way that suggested he was used to surveillance. Tabak was not certain how he felt about the thought, but he was not going to dig into it too deeply.

“ _Do you_ …” Jedia’s voice hesitated, and Tabak tilted his head in question. “ _Do you think that Maul is right_ ,” she asked softly.

“About?”

“ _Do you think that he is in danger? Do you think that_ we _are_?”

Tabak frowned slightly beneath his mask, “would it matter?”

There was a pause.

“ _No_ ,” Jedia said, and there was a certainty and firmness in her voice. “ _We would protect him in the same way we do all the others. He is_ our _charge. Maul has lived in the shadow of whoever his Master is for years. Long enough that he is odd to_ you _,”_ she pointed out _. “There is every likelihood that his fear for his Master is overblown. We just have to prove it to him._ ”

Tabak found himself nodding slowly, taking that in, and taking a further deep breath before giving his own nod. “I think he can be better,” Tabak said softly.

“ _I do, too_ ,” Jedia responded softly. “ _I think that_ …” she trailed off.

Tabak waited.

“ _Tabak_ ,” Jedia’s voice came softly. “ _Something is wrong_ …” she said, and Tabak found his hands gripping the pike, shifting his stance. Tabak came to notice that Maul had stopped in his pushups, frozen in place in the middle of the room, but unlike the plank before, this seemed…

“Something’s coming,” Tabak said, turning the commlink off and speaking to his other cohorts, knowing that Maul could hear him, too.

Maul had looked up, and there was such… Tabak sent his hand out, pushing the button that would sound an alarm…

Nothing happened.

Maul had shifted his posture, kneeling, his eyes staring straight ahead at them…

Past them.

Past them, he was…

Tabak turned, staring into the halls of the prison, and came to realize he could not see as far as he should be able to. It took him a moment to realize the reason for that was because the hall before him was _dark_.

“Jedia,” Tabak said, his voice a low hiss, “Jedia, come in, please, Jedia…”

No response.

“Run,” Maul’s voice came then and Tabak found himself looking back at him, staring into golden eyes that somehow seemed to bore into his. “If you value your life, you will _run_ …”

Tabak took a breath, closing his eyes, before softly, “No, little Cousin,” he said, watching as those golden eyes widened, and then narrowed. “Our place is protecting you.”

The Guards around him shifted into battle stances, their pikes aiming towards the threat, and Tabak joined them.

The lights went off.

Tabak was cold.

He shifted his hold on the saberstaff, staring into the darkness, breaking it with the piercing gold of his saberstaff, taking slow step after step forward with the others.

The dark welcomed them into its embrace, Tabak’s breath rising as mist. Tabak felt _nothing_.

There was nothing within the darkness, just them, and Maul…

Tabak felt the hair on the back of his neck start to stand on end. They padded forward together into the hall, looking in every direction, trying to pierce the dark that no matter how hard they willed to get back, consumed.

They were walking into a mouth…

A brilliant line of red was suddenly burning before him, burning, burning…

They had found the teeth.

The shadows _laughed_.

They could not even scream.

* * *

Maul watched from his position kneeling on the ground as electricity exploded in a giant wave, consuming everything in its path, even as that saber made quick work of the ones that had managed to escape. There was no mercy, and Maul had not expected any.

Maul felt his hearts hammering against his ribs, felt the despair, the fear the agony burn, burn, burn…

Maul had known.

Maul had known his Master would come.

Maul lowered himself prostrate, his eyes closed, waiting. His Master would come, and he would see, he would know… Maul could not hide.

Maul heard the first transparisteel wall shatter, and felt the second explode out over him, Maul not flinching at the feeling of shards digging into his skin, at the cuts that it opened. He remained prostrate, silent, waiting.

“Ah,” his Master said softly, walking towards him, “my Apprentice…” he gave a soft tut, “I heard of your attempts at escape. It was…well done. A pity you were not enough for Mace Windu, but I suppose…this is to be expected.”

Maul leaned into the touch as his Master’s hand lowered to his head gently, almost petting. “He was too strong, my Master,” Maul agreed softly. “Forgive me my weakness.”

“Hmm…”

Maul felt the nails dig into his skin, sharp, sharp, before they released softly.

“It is truly my fault, Apprentice,” his Master said softly. “I was the one who trained you.” Maul’s hearts thudded in his chest. “Tell me,” he asked softly. “How have you liked being stuck amongst the Jedi?” he asked.

Maul felt the hand slowly trail down to under his chin, lifting his face up to make eye-contact with his Master. “Pathetic,” he said, “their weakness is staggering.”

Maul watched those eyes as they bore into his, and he knew…that he had not passed the test.

Those eyes closed gently, and softly, “Oh, Maul…” his Master whispered.

“Master,” Maul said softly, “please, I…”

“You know, do you not?” his Master asked softly, “that there is no use in begging? Or have your Jedi friends broken you so…”

“We are not _friends_ ,” Maul denied immediately, “we are not…if you but asked I would kill them, I…”

“Maul,” his Master asked, “why do you see fit…to lie to me?”

Maul did not see the lightning coming. Maul only felt it hit.

It burned, blistering, tearing its way up his flesh, and when Maul tried to scream, he found that he could not, his throat stopped as his Master kept him from screaming. He writhed, twisting, clawing at his arms, his chest, his head, anything anything to get it to stop, to get it to stop, he…

It stopped.

Maul gasped, heaving, shaking.

“Maul,” his Master said softly, coming forward, “why must you wound me in this way?”

“I am…sorry, Master,” Maul whispered, his teeth chattering, tasting the tang of blood. “I did not…I did not mean…”

“You never do,” his Master said, sighing, and the lightning was back.

It burned, longer than he had ever felt it, tearing through him in such a way that he had never known, and he knew then that his Master was going to kill him, he was going to die, he was…

It stopped.

It stopped.

And Maul’s first thought was that _they_ had come to rescue him…

And then he despaired, because his Master’s face hovered above his own, and he laughed, quietly, so quietly, “Are you so sure that they can save you from me?” Darth Sidious asked him. “Are you sure _you_ can save _them_?”

Maul shook his head, spitting blood, trying to speak…

“No,” Darth Sidious whispered, looking into his eyes. “You cannot, and I will be…certain of it. You are not going to know me,” Darth Sidious whispered. “You will not know my face, you will not know my name, and you will not know of the Plan.” Darth Sidious smiled, his teeth bared, “and when the time comes…you will watch as the Jedi you have come to care for…all burn. And then…then I will come for you.”

And the fingers this time were not just on his face they were in his _Mind_ , and as they tore deep within him, as Maul once again let out soundless screams…

He knew that no one was coming to save him.

Maul was alone.

Maul had failed as an Apprentice.

* * *

Darth Sidious left as soundlessly as he had come, knowing that there was just enough time to get back to the tunnels before the Prison returned to the grid. It had been an easy enough matter to loop the footage, to make it seem as though nothing was wrong, to blanket the prison with silence and stop them from discovering the death that lay within… This would of course change once the power was restored, once he let go, but Sidious was not worried.

He had done what he came for, though the results were…disappointing. Sidious had hoped that Maul could merely be retrieved, but… There were numerous other ways that Maul could still be…useful. His budding attachment to the young Skywalker boy was most interesting, and ultimately…

Sidious knew that Maul was still loyal.

Sidious knew that it would take more than the Jedi could give before Maul would shift, because ultimately… Maul was _attached_ to him, and the Jedi could not give him that.

“Darth Vectivus,” he found himself mumbling under his breath as he slid down into the tunnels, following them back to the Senate building. He shook his head in amusement.

Ultimately, what Sidious now had was a sleeper agent amongst the Jedi themselves. They believed that they could win Maul over, that they may… _rehabilitate_ him, but ultimately Maul was his, and would remain his. But the Jedi needed to believe that they had the opportunity, and what better way than to make it seem as though he had been thrown away by his Master’s own hand?

They would take the opportunity this presented to _comfort_ Maul, of course, and in their weakness, they would open themselves up further for the knife in their heart.

Maul would be able to plant seeds of Darkness within the Skywalker boy, and ultimately Sidious would be able to help them bloom, and in the end…when Sidious stood before Maul and told him it had all been a test, when he opened his arms to him… Maul would come, and Sidious would gain both Apprentices, and their attachment would see to the fact that they did not turn on each other, while Maul’s attachment to _him_ would see that there was no further threat, of course, aided by the Skywalker boy’s own attachment.

The Rule of Two had long been leading to him as the end. Maul, who he had reared since infancy, and this Chosen One would ultimately be the two he needed standing beside him at the end, and it would truly be beside him…

For the moment, however… Sidious had a Proton Torpedo to see to…

Separating a Republic was more tedious than it had need to be…

It was frankly a shame that it wasn’t as easy as building an army. Sidious returned to his office, making sure it seemed as though he had come from his apartments, the surveillance showing precisely that, a rewire in the system that meant Sidious could come and go as he pleased. Sidious sank into his chair, hiding his lightsaber once more within it, and finally signaled for the distraction he had prepared, knowing that it would alert the Jedi, that it would trick them into thinking that the Sith had come from outside of the Planet, and ultimately found his Apprentice wanting.

They would not be able to track it to him.

Sidious let go of his hold on the prison and listened to the sound of an explosion split the night.

The Jedi would know that the one in their hold was not the Master, they would know that the Master was powerful…and ultimately, they would be fooled into looking elsewhere, while Palpatine sat at their heart…

Yet another knife in the dark.


	11. Aftermath and Emptiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Attack on the Temple. 
> 
> The aftermath of getting your mind torn asunder. 
> 
> And why this won't be that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps~ This chapter fought me so damn hard. It fought me so damn hard LOL I literally reworked one part like. Four times before I deleted it entirely levels of fighting me. I'm still...so-so about it. But this is honestly as good as I think I'm going to get it. 
> 
> Warnings: I make more OCs. More OCs die. Migraines, the effects of getting your mind ripped open. Um. Nosebleeds? Is that a thing that people have an issue with? 
> 
> Also I do say good fucking luck, but let's be real. Palpatine doesn't need luck.

The Jedi Temple was being attacked.

There had been an explosion upon its grounds, and the sudden feel of death within its walls was immediate.

Plo was on his feet, moving to the window to stare out, taking in the sight of a starfighter of an unfamiliar origin swooping the southwest part of the Temple. He had been unable to sleep that night, an uneasy feeling rising up that would not be banished no matter how much he tried to relax. A part of him had tried to write it off as worn nerves from the conversation with Maul…

The other part of him had expected this.

Plo’s ship was in sight, his R4 model beeping at the sight of him, coming online without prompting, having waited for this moment.

There was a small group running behind him, but Plo was focused on his own. Plo would trust in his fellow Jedi to do what needed to be done. Plo had his own job to do.

Plo did not think about the southwest part of the Temple being the spot where the prison was housed.

Plo could not think about that.

Plo would trust in his fellow Council Members to see to their Charge. Plo had to make sure that they would not get a second sweep.

* * *

Mace had found himself running to the Prisons before he even really thought of it, feeling the death and the pain that was suddenly screaming in the Force.

Mace waited by the entrance to the grounds, feeling out with his senses, ready for another attack. Mace was not surprised by the sudden presence by his elbow, even as he heard a voice crying out for Anakin to come back. Mace sent a brief glance back to see Obi-Wan reaching out, Qui-Gon at his side, and Anakin looking a bit like he was going to just run across the grounds towards the smoking prison.

There was death there, but Mace could feel Maul’s life, thready and weak as it was, he was alive. They just needed to get there…

Their starfighters poured from the Hanger, Plo’s ship in the lead, and Mace took the distraction that offered him to run, feeling Qui-Gon once again at his side. Anakin stayed behind with Obi-Wan, Mace feeling the obvious distress and worry surrounding the young boy.

Attachment.

It made Mace want to laugh. But he would not, running with Qui-Gon, listening as the other man gave a shout, feeling out with his instincts and diving, rolling out of the way of another sweep. Mace watched a starfighter that felt like death and like Dark in a way he had never known sweep over them and turn its nose skyward. The threat of the Jedi starfighters was clear. It would not come back for another assault.

Mace forced himself to his feet once again, running towards the Sith Prison that was broken, shattered… The only thing that brought him some manner of relief was the fact that the hit had been off, hitting the side that Maul was _not_ in, there may yet be some survivors… While they ran across rubble, Pushing and Lifting the obstacles in their way, the closer they got to the side Maul had been in the less it had been demolished.

The sight and sudden feel of the dead Temple Guards caused the two men to pause, staring down the hall to see that the destruction didn’t stop here.

The transparisteel had been shattered inwards all around them, but most importantly in the cell containing their charge…

Lying unmoving in a pool of blood…

There was Maul.

* * *

Qui-Gon had listened to his Apprentice wake up in the middle of the night screaming, and from there it felt as though it had been an unending race.

The explosion on the southwestern part of the Temple had told him all that he needed to know and as he ran with Mace to the Prisons he trusted Obi-Wan to keep Anakin, for the two of them to take care of each other, and all the while he hoped that Anakin knew to trust him with Maul.

The sight of the young Sith lying there unmoving had nearly stopped his heart, but he ran with Mace, knowing that the thready feeling of life was more important than the death around him.

Six good men and women who would be mourned and grieved for did not remove the importance of a single life, no matter whose life it was. They had _died_ for that life; their sacrifice would not be in vain.

Qui-Gon refused to let it be so.

They ran forward together, dropping to knees next to the completely still figure, and Qui-Gon felt a momentary rush of horror.

Maul was bleeding, his eyes, his nose, his ears, his mouth…lying in an ever-growing pool of blood that came from the numerous cuts from the shattered transparisteel. There were burns covering his form, evidence of electricity painting his flesh, raw and blistered… Mace reached out, and Qui-Gon felt that palpitation of Force Healing, of a Scan, and slowly started his own, checking for injuries in the spine, checking for a reason they could not lift him and finding none.

Mace reached out to the crumpled body, carefully, gently scooping him up in his arms, and Qui-Gon felt that increase of Force Healing, the attempts to keep him calm and to take the edge off the pain. Qui-Gon watched golden eyes lull, drifting down to something on the ground and found his own gaze turning towards it.

It was a plant…a plant in a shattered pot, its roots torn free from the soil, the leaves scattered across the ground. Qui-Gon did not know why Maul could not tear his eyes away from it.

Qui-Gon made no comment, he merely took the lead, racing back out of the prison, helping to clear a path for Mace and their charge that he held in his arms.

Qui-Gon did not pay attention to the words that slipped from lips to fill a void of silence.

He did not pay attention to the way Maul remained completely limp.

* * *

Plo had never felt a ship that caked in the Dark Side.

It was almost a physical wall, and as he found himself chasing it, Plo forced himself to focus past that Dark, and stick to his target. It burned, tearing at his mind, trying to engulf him, but Plo was too good of a pilot, and frankly too experienced of a Master.

Plo chased the unknown fighter with the understanding that if he lost sight of it for even a second it would be over. It was too quick, flown too skillfully, and as he followed them through traffic lanes, dipping and whirling in between them, he knew that the other Jedi were forced to fall back.

Plo rolled, banked, and twisted, his focus locked.

It would not escape him.

Plo could not let it.

Not when it threatened his home. Not when it threatened the ones that Plo cared about.

Plo felt himself press into the seat as they both changed their angle to shoot straight into the atmosphere, feeling the rumbling turbulence of piercing through it.

R4 beeped in triumph, but Plo already knew.

He fired the torpedoes.

The ship lit up. 

* * *

Darren Emil was a desperate man. He was also a very good pilot. One of the best, having flown in every arena – private, pirate, and otherwise, he was very good at what he did, though the pirate one had left its mark. Forced into faking his own death, and then deep into hiding, Darren was happy to vanish into Coruscant with the other dregs. He had found a family within those dregs, and had enough to live comfortably, what else did he need? But ultimately…what was most important about him was the desperation.

Desperate men can be talked into just about anything for the right price, and Darren had been offered a beautiful price.

Darren’s family released, unharmed, and fully intact, for an attack on a Prison.

A Prison meant criminals, and criminals meant people that had invariably done something wrong, something to end up in that prison. There might have been exonerating circumstances, but ultimately, they were _guilty_.

They were not like his innocent family.

The fact that the Prison belonged to the Jedi was something else that pushed him towards the decision to follow through, knowing that whoever they held must be… _had_ to be awful enough to deserve destruction. The Jedi did not imprison lightly. They were _peacekeepers_.

Even so, Darren had entered the ship that felt…wrong, that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up for a reason he could not explain… Darren entered it knowing that he was going to die.

It was worth it. It was worth it so long… _so long_ …

Darren had seen the ships pour out of the Hanger and changed his trajectory towards the sky, and even as he knew that he was going to die, Darren found himself praying that his wonderful children Eesha, Micni, and his beautiful wife Tal’va…

He prayed that they would live, and then he started evasive maneuvers. Darren was good, he was quick, and he thought quicker, rolling and diving around other ships, the ship he flew quicker and more maneuverable than most of the ships he had ever flown in.

Darren would not be able to die without putting up some sort of fight, and even as this ship that felt evil and wrong pulled up through the atmosphere, tore through traffic and… Hyperspace. Darren was able to begin to pull it up, felt the rumbling of the drives…

The red alert sounded.

Target lock.

Darren could not even scream.

* * *

Eeth felt the ship as it was blasted from the jaws of Hyperspace itself, so close to escaping, so close, and watched from his position next to Ki-Adi, Yaddle, Even, Depa, and Oppo as the parts began falling back, burning, burning.

It had been _close_ , torn through lines upon lines of traffic, and only Plo had managed to keep with it. Only Plo had managed to catch it before it could slip from their reach, potentially for long enough to come back stronger. They watched and were ready, calling the Force to them, catching the parts of this broken tainted ship that managed to fall through the lines, trying to mitigate the damage as well as they could, and managed to bring them back towards the Temple.

Their ships returned to the Hanger, and Eeth… Eeth did not know what to think.

The ship that had crashed on the ground before them was one of the most tainted things that Eeth had ever come across, even having fallen through the atmosphere, even at having burned… It still reeked of Dark in a way that Eeth had never felt. It made him nearly stagger, and he could see the weight of it wearing his fellows down.

He heard Anakin’s voice then, the horrified shout of alarm, and Eeth knew what he would do.

The Temple was protected, the threat had been destroyed…

Maul was all that there was left to see to.

“We’ll collect the bodies,” Ki-Adi said, turning to him. “They might need someone to help calm him down.”

Adi came up behind them then, looking towards the gates, “I will take care of the press.”

“I will assist,” Oppo said with a lowered head, and the two of them left.

Eeth nodded to all of them, taking Ki-Adi’s hand in thanks and giving a brief good luck, looking to the others briefly, before running back into the Temple.

Eeth raced down the halls, following the path that Mace and the others had run before, seeing Knights and Masters and Padawans all leaning out, watching, all ready. “The threat has been seen to,” Eeth yelled, and the word was passed through, passed back, and they went to help the Council Members outside, and Eeth still ran to see to the one thing left.

Eeth drew up sharply before the Medical Bay and knew instantly that things were _bleak_.

Obi-Wan had pulled Anakin to him, the two of them close to the far wall, out of the way of the controlled chaos that was the Healers at work.

Healer Che was directing them, speaking in her firm and authoritative voice, guiding them through ways to treat… Burns. Burns and electrical damage, misfiring nerves…simultaneously calling for Mind Healers.

Maul was in the midst of this, held down by Mace and Qui-Gon both, almost feverish in his panic, words spilling out that were gruff and… It took Eeth a moment to realize that they were of the actual Sith tongue, desperate and horrified and _dark_. Healer Che was cursing at sedatives not working, grim dedication and professionalism leading to her reaching down towards Maul’s head, ready… Maul went to bite, fangs bared and violent, and Eeth ran forward, sliding around them, reaching for a temple horn.

Maul stilled at the feel, looking to him through blood-rimmed eyes, a trail of it sliding from his mouth, his nose, his ears, cutting through his skin in lines, cutting through the black to meet with red, his skin raised in blisters, and his _gaze_ … Maul stared at him, and Eeth knew that the gaze was only telling him one thing.

Maul had told them so.

Maul resisted Eeth’s press to sleep, to relax, to let the Healers see to him, his face pulling into a weak snarl, his head lulling back, away, yanking his horn from Eeth’s grasp, cutting a line into his finger.

And then there was a soft voice, and Maul’s eyes slid over, and there was Yoda, walking forward. Maul stared at him, holding completely still as Yoda approached and finally with a soft hum Yoda reached out, and gave a softly whispered, “Peace, Darth Maul,” and pressed a finger to his forehead. “Peace…”

Maul stiffened for just a moment, before his eyes rolled into the back of his skull and he collapsed and finally…remained…still. 

“Thank you,” Healer Che managed, and called to the others. Mace and Qui-Gon let go, backed away, Qui-Gon heading towards his Padawan and his Once-Padawan. Qui-Gon lifted Anakin up into his arms, and Anakin buried his face into his robes.

They were quiet, and Eeth found himself looking to Mace, who made eye-contact, and then they both gave a sharp nod. They had done all they could for the moment. They needed to leave him to the Healers, though he did find himself looking to Healer Che when she had finally managed to take a step back, blood on her gloved hands, taking a brief breath of air before she returned.

“Healer Che, why are we calling the Mind Healers?”

“There is…” Healer Che took a breath, and Eeth realized her hands were shaking, and when she looked at him finally her lekku were twitching, irritation and such… “there are tears through his mental walls,” she reported and Eeth understood why her lekku curled in _grief_. “His mind feels as though it has been cut into with a _scalpel_ , he…” she shook her head, “it is _bad_ , Master Koth. The lines go so deep, I do not know what was cut out. I need help.”

Eeth found his chin tilting up. Maul had seemed to have recognized him, had seemed to have recognized _them_ , but the use of the Sith tongue, for the…that was… For so much…for so _deep_. Eeth had thought that the blood had been from a concussion, from some other head-wound, not…

Not a _mind-wipe_. Not tearing Maul’s mind to _pieces_.

Eeth followed Healer Che’s instructions to get out with the others, leaving them to their work, and they moved outside, just within sight. Master Yoda had been requested to stay in order to put him out again if Maul struggled his way free. There was no doubt that Maul was the most keyed up that Eeth had ever seen him.

It was not long before the Mind Healers entered, joining with the Healers, and Eeth watched as their Head Healer, a male Rodian by the name of Tiq Nooz, moved past Healer Che with a nod of his head, antenna twitching slightly as he knelt behind Maul’s head, and reached out slowly.

The soft hiss he gave was enough to tell Eeth everything he didn’t want to know.

The only thing they could do for Maul was wait.

They would return to the grounds, Qui-Gon would return his Padawan to his rooms, and Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan looked like he was ready to go with the members of the Council.

“Come, Knight Kenobi,” Eeth said with a sigh. “We have more work to do yet before we can call it a night, I think.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head to them and followed.

* * *

Obi-Wan was nearly trembling with crashing adrenaline mixed with fatigue, but he called to the Force, letting it steady him, letting it fuel him.

Master Eeth was right in that there was much to do yet, though Obi-Wan had no idea where to start.

Anakin waking up screaming in the middle of the night had set the stage for what was turning out to be one of the longest nights of his life. Obi-Wan had had a few long nights. But he had few that involved actual Sith Lords, and that was what Obi-Wan thought it had involved…and Maul…

Obi-Wan had never seen anything like it.

Maul had been completely pliant up until the point where they had brought him to the Healers, and then he seemed to realize where he was and what was happening. The sound that had left his mouth had sent shivers up Obi-Wan’s spine and he knew he would not forget it for a very long time. The fact that Maul had immediately started to thrash, to scream, to… Qui-Gon and Mace _both_ had to hold him down even as the Healers tried to sedate him.

Maul had taken two tranquilizers that should have put out a man two times his size, and when he had still thrashed, still started speaking in a language that Obi-Wan did not know… Obi-Wan had taken Anakin into his arms and pulled him back, finding that he regretted more than anything having taken Anakin in to begin with.

He did not need to see this.

Yoda being able to finally put Maul to sleep, to give him the rest that he needed… It was a _relief_.

Obi-Wan followed the others, putting Maul’s reaction from his mind, knowing that if he meant to help them, he had to be focused. Maul would still be there later, they would… They would see what damage had been done to him and then they would…

Obi-Wan staggered back at the sudden rolling feeling of Darkness, staring at the wreckage of the ship it seemed to emanate from, feeling a bit like he had just stepped into a cobweb that refused to come off, or into an oil slick that had covered him, sticky and terrible and…

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan,” Eeth’s voice came, soft and Obi-Wan met his gaze. “It’s destroyed. The ship…whatever flew it, it’s destroyed.”

Obi-Wan looked from Eeth back to the ship and finally pushed the Dark away from him, before following him out, walking to the prison.

There were more Temple Guards outside of it, helping in removing the rubble, in retrieving the bodies of…

Six Temple Guards. Six that had…

Those that helped a Blood Slave had to be willing to die, and these six had been willing. They would be honored. Obi-Wan wondered at their names and found himself looking to the remaining Guards. They stood impartial, unmoving after removing their fellows, and after a moment Obi-Wan walked forward quietly, unable to help himself.

They turned at hearing his approach, their pikes coming up into a salute.

“Their names,” Obi-Wan asked softly, “who were they?”

“Jedia, Rollan, Mic Roquis, Won Dintay, Miz, and Tabak,” came the answer from their Head, who took a step forward. “They stood with honor.” There was a pause, “was it in vain?”

“He still lives, he is…” Obi-Wan closed his eyes, “his mind has been torn open. We do not know what he remembers and what he does not, but he _is_ alive.”

There was a pause, and the one who had spoken lowered his head. Obi-Wan did not know what they were thinking.

“Was it his Master that was shot down?” another Guard asked softly, the words modulated and soft. “Is he free from him?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, looking back at the wreckage of that ship, thinking once again of that awful oil-slick feeling. 

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said with a brief sigh, “but whatever got shot down was…”

There was a pause, neither of them saying a word, before finally, quietly, “the bastard died too quick.”

Obi-Wan thought of panicked thrashing, of a body that refused to shut down to tranquilizers, burns and electrical scarring the likes of which he had never _seen_ , of terror and fear and a mind that had been torn to shreds… Obi-Wan thought of six guards that had been cut down while doing their duty.

He agreed.

Obi-Wan took a breath, there was a nod between the two of them, and then they breathed it out.

He joined the others in clearing the rubble. By the time they were done the sun was just about to start peeking over the horizon, and the bodies had been properly wrapped. The only thing left was to take them to be burned.

Obi-Wan followed the funeral procession, his body so weary, listening as the Guards spoke of duty, of freedom, of doing what they had to. He listened as they spoke of bravery, of sacrifice, and ultimately of doing the right thing even if it was not understood by the ones they meant to help. Obi-Wan listened to the names that they once again gave, speaking them into being in a way that the Temple Guard did not usually permit themselves.

They would be remembered. 

Obi-Wan listened and he bowed his head, watching as the bodies were lowered, as they were incinerated, and ultimately returned to the Cosmic Force.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, took a breath, and sighed it out, before finally heading to bed.

He could do no more. Obi-Wan would get what sleep he could, and then he would see what the rest of the day would bring.

Obi-Wan thought of the wreckage of a ship coated in the Dark and wondered.

And in those moments of pre-dawn light, on the edge of sleep and wake, he quietly dared to _hope_ …

* * *

Yoda sat quietly next to the still body of Maul, his mind in deep meditation, feeling out the still form next to him.

The collar had been removed, the realization that it had acted as something of a conductor for the electricity that had been poured into him had been a horrifying one, Tiq giving a call of alarm when he had tilted Maul’s head back to get a better hold and seen the burns that ringed his throat. So, here Maul was, wrapped in bacta-laced bandages, the Healers afraid to submerge him entirely without consent, fearing that should he fight his way through the tranquilizers to keep him under he would panic.

It was not an idle fear.

So, here Yoda sat, and he waited, sending up his thoughts and hopes with the Guards that they had lost, feeling the mourning, the reeling. They would have to discuss much…

And then he felt something else, something…

It burned in the Force, ugly like an open wound, torn and gaping, the oil-slick heat of Maul’s own presence like a campfire in comparison to what felt like an inferno. Yoda opened his eyes, watching as Plo, Mace and Eeth brought in a small piece of wreckage…and then the oil-slick heat near him exploded.

Maul snapped awake with a gasp of fear and breathless agony, reeling back physically, falling off the bed before they could properly react, tearing sensors from skin, spots of blood rising up as the alarms blared and Healer Che’s voice called out from the back.

The wreckage was dropped as Maul crawled backwards, half out of his _mind_ with panic and fear and the Force _flared_. Instruments shook and glass shattered, and Yoda moved before he even truly thought about it, raising his own presence to meet it, overcome it, and then Plo was there, holding the Zabrak close, fighting through the defensive storm that had risen, reaching up and tugging at horns, even as he pressed him close. Maul’s body froze, burning eyes slitting, looking a bit like he was unsure whether to push back or fall in close, and Yoda moved closer, still reaching out, still suppressing that burning, even as Eeth and Mace slowly moved closer, still holding that…

“Shh,” Plo’s voice rattled softly, “shh,” he repeated, petting at black-tattooed flesh, “you are safe, your Master is not here…” he pointed, and Maul’s eyes followed where he pointed, taking in the wreckage, the piece of debris that still… “Look…” he whispered, “look, it was… _he_ was destroyed. He was _destroyed_. He is _gone_.”

Maul stared at the wreckage, and those eyes were uncomprehending, and clawed fingers dug into the Kel Dor, head shaking, and there was a trembling that was rising up through his body, bitter, bitter, bitter, and then he screamed. It was a scream from the deepest parts of his being, agonized and torn and ripped from a throat that was not strong enough to contain it.

Plo held him close, bore the brunt of the agony, the pain, the confusion, and held him, his own presence rising up to hold, to comfort and to hush… The sound finally ended, a broken cracked thing that turned to a sound, soft, shuddered desperate… It was a sob.

It was followed by more.

It was followed by despair.

Maul finally fell still, finally fell lax, and Yoda reached out, pressing his fingers to that forehead, and gave another compulsion to _sleep_.

Maul drifted back under.

Plo Koon held him close to his chest, covered in scratches, in the desperate clawing of someone who needed to both escape and pull him closer, and he finally stood, Mace helping to support him, and they brought Maul back to the bed, lying him down.

The question then, of who had been within the wreckage was answered.

Yoda slumped to the chair he had been on, Healer Che finally coming forward after the panic had stopped, after Maul no longer burned, and she was safe to reapply bandages and scold them for endangering her patient and themselves. There was a tremble to her voice, though, one that Yoda felt as though he understood. His head bowed lower, mourning in his own way the grief of the young one within their care.

And cursing the one who had done this to him.

Though…there were of course lingering questions, but they were questions that would be asked once things were allowed to process.

It was early yet, and they needed to see how Maul reacted when he wasn’t half out of his mind with panic. They needed to see how he would react now that there was every possibility…every likelihood…

That Maul’s Master was _dead_.

* * *

Plo had held Maul’s body in his arms as it shook, power lashing off of him like a physical thing, the burning of his aura trying to catch his own alight, and he had done his best to instead try and carefully cool that burning thing, carefully provide Maul something safe to cling to instead of rejecting it. Claws had dug into his skin, claws and those horns and Maul had clung as much as he had pushed, and the tears…bitter tears, heavy and desperate and so… And Plo… When Maul finally fell limp, that feverish energy fading as quickly as it came, snuffed out like a candle, Plo had held that limp body with nothing more in his soul but despair.

Maul had ceased being able to push away the moment he had fallen unconscious once again, and Plo had found that instead those claws that had been so desperate to dig into his flesh, to get him to let go… They tugged at his robes, pulled close, and Maul’s head slumped against him. Plo kept his head turned away from that horn on his temple, careful to not let it scratch against him, and when Mace came, carefully holding Maul’s head away, adjusting him so that temple horn instead pressed over his shoulder… Plo held that body in his arms, felt the way Maul pressed closer, and closed his eyes.

For a moment Plo held a young Zabrak that he wasn’t sure had ever been held and tried to send as many positive feelings to him as he could.

Plo had finally set Maul down on his bed again, Mace working with him to untangle the clawed fingers, before he took a step back, the spots of blood on his robes from the Zabrak ignored, even as the missing weight was _mourned_. Maul had clung as though to let go was death, and he knew that Maul never would have had he been awake. Plo watched Yoda close his own eyes, felt his own mounting mourning rise.

Plo had watched the ship explode, seen the falling shattered remains fall back to the Temple, that Dark presence fading to just encompass the ship itself. He had returned to the Hanger and simply sat there for the longest time, trying to stop himself from shaking, breathing through the adrenaline and the shattered nerves.

When he had seen the wreckage for himself, he almost didn’t believe it.

But Plo had had work to do yet. He had been there for the funeral, watched as the bodies were returned to the Cosmic Force, and finally he had once again approached the wreckage. Even had punched him lightly in the thigh, the much shorter Lannik only able to reach that point and gave him a _look_ … Plo did not feel much like celebrating. It felt…

“Did we do it?” Adi had asked softly, having apparently returned from dealing with the reporters, and her voice had been so…uncertain, that edge of hope… “Would it be so simple?”

“He almost escaped,” Plo had returned, his voice so… “I thought he would.”

Ki-Adi had been quiet for a moment, before sighing, “I believe,” he had rubbed his face. “I don’t understand. There’s so many…why let Maul live if…?”

If he was just going to destroy the Prison with him in it…

“It’s possible the desire was for us to bring him in closer. To put him in the Temple with us…” Saesee had said gruffly. “If…we know Maul’s mind has been tampered with?”

“The Mind Healers will be able to know if something was implanted,” Depa had returned, her voice certain. “There is every possibility that if there was something implanted, with…with his death…”

“Fade, it would,” Yaddle had said softly, and her voice was so…

Plo had stood there still. “Do you really think that’s it?” Plo had asked.

“We…” Eeth had started softly, “we should bring a piece of the wreckage to Yoda,” he had finally finished. “If anyone can figure out whether or not…”

Plo had agreed without knowing what else to do, that desperate palpable relief and hope a choked down thing that… Plo had not wanted to grasp it until he was _sure_.

Maul’s reaction had filled him with that certainty, even as it had filled him with a sense of desperate apology and dread. They had not been thinking, their desire to make sure that it had been done, that Maul was _free_ , that the threat from outside had been eliminated and they were able to focus within, that perhaps…

Perhaps the threat from the Sith had once again been destroyed in a mixture of luck and skill and… Overconfidence. Pride. Perhaps the one that they held in their walls would turn a page, and they could…

Plo suddenly found himself sitting, watching with unseeing eyes as Healer Che finished reattaching Maul to the equipment, rechecking bandages. They would attempt to bring Maul to the Light either way. If it was found that he could not or would not, then it was his choice and it would be honored…

They were not Maul’s Master.

“Master Plo,” Healer Che’s voice came suddenly, and the Kel Dor looked up, shaking himself from the buzzing thoughts and coming to attention. He noticed she was holding bandages up, and simultaneously became aware of the terrible stinging of the claw marks that had been dug into his flesh. He let her bandage him and when she had finished her gaze darkened considerably.

Healer Che brought all of them to a side room with a look, and then proceeded to chew them out in a way Plo had not been chewed out since he was a youngling. It was deserved.

“I understand the need to _know_ ,” Healer Che said, her voice heavy, “I understand why you would even bring it here, but…” she took a breath, “you showed no concern for the patient you swear you considered first. He panicked, you brought him to _panic_. While it is true that you were quick to help, to assuage him… Maul’s mind is _fragile_. Healer Tiq has never…” Healer Che’s voice trailed off, and her hands went up to her face. “There is so much damage done. You may exasperate it, and if you do… Healer Tiq has reported that it seems clinically done, it seems as though there was nothing taken outside of what was _meant_ , but he was only able to heal so much. Maul’s mind needs time to rebuild his natural walls and you may have aggravated…” She trailed off, and Plo knew then that she was _worried_.

“We’re sorry,” Mace said, and his voice was so… Plo closed his eyes, his head tilting down, feeling such a deep despair. “I had not…” Mace took a breath. “I had not believed until that moment that it was Maul’s Master. I did not think that he would react to it.”

It was only as Mace said it that Plo realized that that had been in his own head, that he himself had not believed it would be that…easy, that simple. He had not believed that he had killed Maul’s Master either.

“We should have made Yoda come to us, even if we did not believe,” Eeth said. “Have…will we have made it worse?”

Healer Che tensed, looking up at them. “I will call Healer Tiq back, he will see what has been done and we…” she took a breath. “We will hope.”

Plo nodded, and they looked at each other before Plo finally found himself trembling.

“Plo?” Eeth asked him softly, the Zabrak’s hand warm on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said briefly. “I’m just…exhausted, and…” he trailed off. “I did not mean to cause him pain.”

“None of us did,” Mace agreed softly, and took his other shoulder, squeezing. “We did the same thing, but you caught him. He was flailing and you caught him.” Mace gave him a gentle grin, “you got cut up pretty bad, too.”

Plo laughed briefly, looking to the bandages on his wrists, feeling the ones on his collar, that lined underneath his robes.

“I did,” Plo agreed. “Do…” he took a breath, “do we tell the Council that Maul’s Master is dead?”

There was a pause as they took this in.

“I think…” Mace said sighing, “that we should really start thinking about where we are going to put Maul first.”

“Do you think he will react poorly to hearing his Master is dead?” Eeth asked.

“I’m certain of it,” Mace returned, and his voice was heavy. “He had a moment of grief, and…” he rubbed his face. “Maul’s loyalty is unquestionable. Even with what his Master did to him…”

“Maul mourned,” Plo said roughly, “he mourned, he… Maul was abused, terribly, viciously, but…”

“Maul is Sith,” Eeth said softly, “and a Sith that did not plan on killing his Master. A Sith that likely _loved_ his Master… We have stripped him of an attachment. While we may now be able to properly give Maul closure, to begin getting him to recognize what happened to him was wrong…”

“It will nonetheless take time,” Mace finished, and it was a weight that had a sweet kiss of hope to it.

Because now that Maul’s own Master was gone…now it was more likely that should they convince him of what was true… Should they convince Maul that his Master held no love for him… They would be on the path to being able to teach him.

It would just take time.

* * *

Anakin was curled up next to Qui-Gon, his bedroll pressed up against the other man, tears sliding down his face as Qui-Gon softly hushed him. Obi-Wan had not come back, but he hadn’t thought he would. Obi-Wan had his own place and his own room, and he probably didn’t want to disturb their sleep, but Anakin missed him.

He closed his eyes trying to fight back the image of that panic, of that fear that had risen… Anakin had seen slaves that had been tortured by their Masters before. Anakin had seen the whip marks, the blood, everything…but he had thought…Anakin had hoped that Maul would be safe.

To see the prison destroyed like that, to know that six more had died, to know that Maul’s Master… He is dead, Qui-Gon had told him, he is dead, he cannot hurt Maul, he cannot hurt you, I will not let him, you are safe…

The whispers continued into the night, as Anakin tried to fight from closing his eyes, not wishing to fall into more dreams. He did not want anymore dreams tonight, not after…not after what he had seen. Not after the feeling of electricity running through him, not after the screams that had been torn from him, until he had woken up and he was screaming with his own voice.

He did not… Anakin did not want to dream of that anymore, did not want to think about how Maul’s skin had been torn through with burns, with lines that followed the path of electricity up his skin.

Anakin curled closer to Qui-Gon, feeling as his Teacher softly began petting at his hair, as he shushed him, and then he felt the slow rising of gentle warmth, the feeling of safety that was being softly projected towards him.

“It is over, Maul is safe, he will heal, and so will you…there will be no more bad dreams tonight, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, and Anakin wondered then whether he had been speaking aloud, even as Qui-Gon gave him a soft hush, which rather confirmed it. “You are alright, the one that attacked us is gone…he is _gone_. You are safe. He will never harm Maul again. He will never harm you. You are surrounded by Jedi, surrounded and safe. Maul is within our heart as well; he will not be touched. The one who attacked the prison has not breached our walls, he knows that to do so would be suicide. You will not be touched either.”

The promise rang in the Force, rang in his mind, and rang in his heart.

Anakin slowly found himself falling asleep, and realized as he slipped into unconsciousness, that he felt _safe_.

* * *

Maul woke up to a splitting pain the likes of which he had never felt tearing its way up his skull.

It was so sharp and so sudden that he was unable to bite back the sharp cry of agony that left him, his hands going up to cover his eyes, and there was an immediate call of alarm around him. There were voices, and while a part of him wanted to push them away, most of him was focused on trying to keep his head from exploding. There was a touch on his arm and Maul jerked, feeling a wellspring of Force energy rising up within him, but there was another power that came, clamping down on it tightly keeping him from releasing it. Maul shuddered under the strain, releasing the power that had risen up within him, and the touch turned to a grasp, which turned to a needle pressing into his arm.

The pain started to ebb, but didn’t leave, and Maul shuddered, his hands sliding up to his horns, pulling, trying…trying to soothe, trying to get it to _stop_.

Maul was no stranger to pain, he had known it every day of his life, every day since his Master…

Maul’s mind hitched, stuttering over the thought, sliding across it like… Maul had known his Master every day of his life. Maul had seen them, looked at them, knew their face better than he had known his own.

Why could he no longer see them? Why…why did he no longer know…?

Maul heard the words then, sliding through his mind, “ _you are not going to know me, you will not know my face, you will not know my name_ …”

There was something else, something else, but he could not…he could not grasp it, and the image slowly came into his mind of his Master standing there, a faceless void in a cloak, a nameless pillar of Dark that had stood before him, had driven electricity through his body, torn him to pieces, and reached into his _mind_ …

Maul had failed his Master.

The image of that wreckage, the feeling of that familiar signature that had burned him, even if he could not remember the face of his Master, could not remember his _name…_ Maul ignored it, refused, cursed the idea, the possibility… His Master was not dead, his Master was not dead…

And if his Master was not dead…then Maul would have to work harder to get back to him.

Maul would have to prove himself. This was just another test, Maul was used to tests, he _knew_ tests.

And it was with this in mind that Maul took all that pain, all of that fear, the lingering confusion, the agony…

And turned it into an attack.

* * *

Yoda had long understood that one of the adages for the Sith was the idea of Pain as Power.

He had never truly expected to see quite as practical a demonstration as this.

Maul’s oil-slick presence in the Force had shifted, turning over inside of him, and then exploded, catching fire in flash of heat that for one moment was nearly overpowering, Yoda having prepared himself to catch the power the young one had demonstrated before. In that moment it nearly overwhelmed him, Yoda forcing himself to regroup and grab hold of the tendrils of licking flame, the furious burst of Force power that exploded out of the young Zabrak, rising in a towering inferno that threatened to engulf everything it touched.

It manifested itself in a brutal Push that sent beds scattering, instruments flying, and knocked several Healers to the ground, and Maul himself leapt afterwards, tearing wires out of skin, ripping through with the impunity of someone who was not currently dealing with the physical after-affects of torture, who had not been grieving just hours ago. Yoda sliced through it, leaping up to meet the attack, holding his hands up and catching the young Sith, only for him to break free with yet another terrible wrench focusing burning, _furious_ eyes on him, and snarled.

“ _You_ …”

Yoda was ready for the attack that pounded against him, unsurprised when it turned out that Maul could not use the Sith Lightning that his own Master had, but nonetheless did not seem to care…and it likely did not matter. Scalpels, bags, monitors, anything and everything that was not bolted to the ground – and some that were – were being ripped from the ground in a desperate hate-fueled haze, sent towards him with a howl of fury, a howl backed with power.

A Sith Scream, and that inferno _burned_.

Yoda was quick to catch everything that was sent towards him, to send the debris harmlessly to either side, moving out of the way of the quick readjustment as Maul grabbed them again, and there was no doubt that the young Sith was _powerful_. Perhaps more powerful than he had ever been in his grief and his rage, and even as the other Jedi began working on restraining him with the Force as Yoda kept redirecting everything, Maul burned through their attempts, snarling.

The Guards came, lightsaber pikes ignited, but keeping far enough away to prevent Maul grabbing hold of their weapons, of claiming them for himself… Instead, they worked on pinning him, on backing him into the corner, short sharp jabs that Maul looked a bit as though he was about to take, his gaze turning heated as they tried to corner him. Maul leapt onto the wall, flipping over, and spinning, one hand outstretched and sending a further rain of metal towards one of the guards, who was defended by his partner.

Maul’s distraction, though, was ultimately what allowed Yoda to catch him in his grasp, and this ultimately showed Yoda everything he needed to know about Maul’s state.

Maul’s power had increased, but there was no doubt that even with that increase, Maul was in pain, was weakening, no longer able to sustain his burn. His body was starting to tremble, slipping in his rage… Maul gave another Scream, pushing back, fighting with everything he had in him, but it was not enough. Yoda had him this time, and he was not letting go, not until one of the Guards had managed to approach with another Force suppressant collar.

Yoda watched as that anger, that hate slowly shifted, slowly turning to terror, to fear, and knew as he watched the Guard clip it around his neck, clipping it over his bacta-bandages, that what truly motivated Maul was that terror, was the _grief_ that he could feel bubbling out of him like magma. Yoda slowly forced the young Zabrak to the bed that he had been in, the Healers shifting it, rushing to right it, and he pushed him down flat into it, watching as the Healers worked to strap him in, strap him down, as Maul finally writhed against it, but… But he was trapped, and it did not take long to sedate him, upping the dose to the threshold of healthy.

Maul had not been injured by them.

And ultimately, he had hurt none of them.

There were some good things that had also been discovered. Maul obviously still remembered him, and had control of his Force abilities, and his mobility…it would remain to be seen what had been removed. Though there was the possibility that Maul had aggravated his mental scarring…

Wounds had been torn open both internally and externally that would take some time to heal.

But they would put in the work needed. Yoda gave a soft hum, and helped return the medbay to standard, before settling back into meditation. It would be a long wait.

* * *

Healer Tiq Nooz had never had a more stubborn patient.

He had known from the beginning that Maul was stubborn, refusing to speak to him whenever Tiq had approached him, but it seemed to have shifted. Tiq understood, but that did not change the fact that being cussed at in Sith of all things was not a particularly appealing situation to be in. It was made especially worrisome due to the frequent nosebleeds, and the lingering dizziness in the patient.

The first few weeks had been spent unconscious, Maul completely catatonic after they had removed his connection to the Force and similarly removed his ability to control pain. Stripped of the Dark Side, Maul had not been able to turn that pain into power, had not been able to do much more than let it overwhelm him, and it was obvious that he was frequently overwhelmed. It had also explained why he had been as active as he was, and similarly removed the need for supervision, though the members of the Council still sat and watched. They all did. The Mind Healers under his command working with him to slowly reseal Maul’s mental walls, to promote healing. It had been slow going, careful to work with the way Maul’s mind wanted to heal, to help promote its own growth, but it had been effective.

The dizziness and nosebleeds both were subsiding over the weeks that followed, their frequent work with him was slowly resealing Maul’s mental walls, and he was no longer collapsing – which had been a more common problem when they had first shifted him into the new prison, and also why a Mind Healer had been with him during all of this, sitting by the Guards and waiting for if something happened.

Migraines were the most common thing to come, the Guards having gotten used to the signs of it, enough to turn the lights off and remain quiet until it passed.

The good thing was the mental wounds were not actively physical, instead cut through his Force presence and into his thoughts and gouged out internally. That nonetheless came with its own awful aforementioned side-effects. You could not cause that much damage to the brain, even mental, and not have some terrible consequences. Maul was lucky he was as young as he was, combined with relatively stable physical health, it meant he was able to come back from it better than some others whose brains were more rigid in their neuroplasticity. His was still greatly malleable and was quick to come up with new pathways as encouraged.

Ultimately, though, the biggest problem lay in Maul’s utter refusal to talk about what had been taken, to talk about what had happened. The complete refusal had meant that Tiq’s other patients actually were members of the Council, Plo and Eeth in particular.

It was, of course, not for anything as severe as what he was attempting to treat in Maul, and they were talking to him, but there was a lingering feeling of disappointed failure, made worse, Tiq thought due to the fact they couldn’t actually visit him themselves. They had known, of course, that the biggest issue lay with Maul’s grief, that it would take time, but they had nonetheless merely wished to _talk_ to someone. Tiq appreciated patients like them. The ones that ultimately were aware that they had an issue and sought to merely find ways to manage it.

It was certainly a lot more healing to Tiq’s own mental state.

Ultimately, Tiq was certain that there were more issues than what Maul was saying, and that was the main problem. Until they were able to get Maul to tell them what the root issue was, they were going to always be on the back foot. Tiq was growing increasingly more worried as time went on that while Maul may be physically getting better, and his mental shields were strengthening, the migraines slowly starting to fade…

One good thing about how long it had taken Maul to heal was the fact that Tiq could enter without putting Maul in binders. He had learned through repeated exposure to him that Tiq was there to help, and if Tiq was not around he himself would not heal. It was a mutually assured path of destruction to hurt him, and Maul was not to that point yet.

Tiq was so glad that Maul was not yet at that point.

But, in the end, none of that mattered until they could get Maul to admit to himself that his Master was dead, that Maul had the opportunity now to truly heal, and…more importantly…

That all any of them _wanted_ was for Maul to heal. And that was the thing Tiq talked to the other Mind Healers about. That was the thing _Tiq_ despaired of him ever learning.

But they would keep trying. If nothing else, Maul was finally strong enough to have visitors.

And Tiq knew a small boy that had been his own patient for a while, that was desperately looking forward to talking to Maul.

Tiq had hope that this would be good for both of them.

* * *

Anakin had been going to see Tiq for weeks now and he had been surprised at how…nice it had been.

Anakin had been to see a Mind Healer before, shortly after he had been brought to the Temple. The gentle questions, the opportunity to really talk without being judged about anything had been wonderful. They had offered to help him with anything that he felt that he needed help with, letting him guide the sessions, and Anakin had been…grateful.

Tiq had been assigned to him after…after that night, listening quietly as Anakin described the nightmare that had woken him up, the sight of a black pillar of darkness standing before Maul, electrocuting him violently, burns rising up on skin, screams tearing from a protesting throat… The sight of Maul in the medbay, the screaming, the agony had only helped fuel the fear that rose within him, had been with him his almost every waking moment. Until…until Tiq had started talking to him.

Tiq had shown him the wreckage, had talked him slowly through the fact that that dark pillar he had seen was _gone_ , that Maul was safe, that _he_ was safe, and also worked out some things that Anakin could use to ground himself whenever he woke up with a nightmare. Anakin had also been able to spend more time in the kitchen, around that heat and the feeling of safety.

Dormosh Silon had been more than willing to let Anakin help, and had been pleased to hear that his nightmares were growing less frequent. The kitchens had also been good for him. The more carnivorous Jedi and Padawans found it funny that Anakin would be working with them, unable to help taste and check some things for seasoning as he couldn’t eat some of the same stuff they did, but they were more than willing to accept him.

Anakin appreciated that acceptance, as he had found it was…lacking in some of his other classes. Anakin’s raw talent with the Force was unmistakable, and it sung within him, almost bubbling at the prospect of being used. It rippled beneath his fingers and in his chest, and his peers… His peers did not appreciate this boy that came in out of nowhere and proceeded to get away with things that took them months.

In the kitchens, though, Anakin was welcomed, because they were the ones that saw him burn a dish. They were the ones that watched him spill ingredients accidentally, the ones that saw him make the little mistakes and were able to laugh with him and not at him, and he thought… Anakin thought he was making friends.

The way the kids in his lessons shunned him still…still hurt, but Tiq had been talking to him about that as well and reminded him that they would grow. They were perhaps older than he was in some cases, had been within these walls and knew their rules and even their roles better than he did, but ultimately… In a lot of ways Anakin was more mature than they were, had been forced into it by a lifetime of slavery, which was something that they couldn’t quite grasp.

Tiq promised him that things would change, that they would grow up, and Anakin clung to that as tightly as he clung to the kitchens.

They also started work once again on the Liquor of the Sands, the original batch having gotten bad after…after what had happened and Maul not being able to eat it. There was also the fact that Anakin finally had the original herbs. He could finally make it properly…

Qui-Gon took it with him this time when Tiq told them both that Maul was able to have visitors, and this time Anakin took it as the only meal with another tray of fruit and a glass of water that also included his medications.

Maul had eaten the soup once, and that meant that he would eat it again. They always did after the first time.

Anakin looked to his Teacher, who smiled warmly at him, the two of them walking into the cellblock that had been reopened to house Maul within their walls, still keeping him away from others and yet keeping him close to the Halls of Healing and their medbay should something go wrong.

They had kept him in the medbay until the worst of it had faded and Anakin hadn’t been allowed to visit, and similarly had been unable to visit when Maul was first imprisoned, waiting until he was stronger, until he was no longer so… Torn open.

Anakin was pleased to see Tiq outside of the prison, talking quietly to the Guards, large eyes creased in a smile. Maul was inside of the prison lying on his back, his hands over his eyes, and the lights dimmed. Tiq regarded them for a moment, before holding up a hand for silence.

“Migraine,” Tiq said softly. “The first one in five days. He is getting much better.”

“I am glad,” Qui-Gon said softly, and Anakin nodded.

“How strong is the flavor of that?” Tiq asked looking to the soup Anakin was holding and he grimaced.

“Very strong,” he said immediately, “I probably shouldn’t give it to him, huh?”

“Not at all,” Tiq responded with a shake of his head, “it might make it worse. The fruit and the water are both good, though.”

“Can I try it?” one of the Guards asked, and Anakin hesitated, holding it close to his chest for a moment and looking up at him. “If not little one, it is alright,” the Guard said softly. “I recognize that it has some sort of symbolism.”

Anakin paused for a moment, thinking. “It’s not for you,” he said finally, and the Guard inclined his head heavily.

“I accept this, thank you. Would you like me to dispose of it for you?”

“Do you mind?” Anakin asked, and held it up to him.

“And why…” Maul’s voice asked then, rough and rasping and with a sharp edge of pain, “are you bringing _that_ back?” 

Anakin blinked, turning to look at him.

Maul looked awful, the skin by his eyes pinched in pain, his mouth twisted down at the corners and he stared at the soup… “Have I not passed that test already?”

Anakin frowned then, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a test.”

“Wasn’t…” Maul stared at him, “wasn’t a test?” he asked roughly. “Then why bring it, why _bother_ with it?”

“It’s…it’s from my planet,” Anakin responded.

“And you go to all the trouble to make it?” Maul asked. “You go to all of the trouble…”

“It’s not a test,” Anakin denied.

“Why do you lie to me?”

“I don’t!”

“You _don’t_ …” Maul sneered. “What is it? Is it that I did not pass it the first time? Were you expecting for me to spit it out? What is it you _want from me_?”

“I don’t want anything!”

“Lies,” Maul spat. “You have wanted something ever since you started talking to me. What is the problem _Padawan_? Are you afraid to tell me I have failed this test, too?” Maul’s voice was shifting to a growl, the snarl on his face getting deeper. “Are you going to tell me that I am a failure with even your pathetic tests of… _what_? What is the point? What is the purpose? What do you want from me? _What do you want_?!”

“Maul,” Tiq said calmly, holding his hands out, “you must calm down, you’re going to make it worse, you don’t…”

“Why do you _care_?” Maul snarled, “What do you gain? What do you _want_?”

“I just want you to get better,” Tiq answered, ducking down to be closer to his level. “We all just want you to get better. We want to free you.”

“I was not enslaved!” Maul shouted back, pounding his fist on the ground, glaring at him. “I was not enslaved! My Master raised me, my Master brought me to power, my Master gave me purpose…” Maul shook, “my Master…” and he crumbled, his hands over his head, “I failed my Master.”

Anakin had listened to the devastation, to the boiling confusion, to the pain in his voice, and he hurt. Anakin hurt, and he knew that Maul hurt, and he was so angry. He was so _angry_ at the monster that had done this to him, so angry at the one that thrown Maul away. Listening to him now, Anakin had never been more certain that Maul had loved his Master, had thought of him as a father, and that more than anything else, hurt him in the very depths of his soul.

And it was this that led Anakin’s actions.

“You shouldn’t want to please him!” Anakin shouted, and pounded his fist on the transparisteel, barely feeling the Force crackle around him, and only barely breathing it out. “Your Master hurt you! He _broke_ you! He threw you away like you were nothing! If your Master loved you half as much as you…you loved him, but he was not your father, he was not…he didn’t love you! Even if he was still alive you shouldn’t want to be near him, but he’s dead! He’s dead, he’s dead, and you can be free! You can be free!” Anakin was aware he was sobbing, was aware that tears were sliding from his eyes. “You can listen to the Jedi; you can listen to _me_! They freed me! I thought…” he shook his head, “I thought I would never be free. I thought that my mom would never…but they freed me! They freed me and…and they just want to free you, too! That’s all they want! Please, please let them! Please let us try!"

Maul stared at him, and his eyes were so…his nose had started to bleed, and his expression was so…

“I don’t understand,” Maul whispered. “Why do you even _care_?”

“Because I had my mother,” Anakin whispered. “Because even…even with Watto I had my mother and she loved me. She loved me so much she _let me go_. You only had your Master, and he treated you worse than Watto _ever_ treated me and Watto won me in a bet. He won me in a _bet_ , and he saw…he saw that I was fed, and didn’t beat me, and didn’t… Did your Master feed you? I know he beat you…” Anakin sniffed, frowning, and stomped, shaking his head and deciding it didn’t matter, continuing, “It doesn’t even matter if he fed you because you don’t _know_ how much your Master hurt you and it’s not fair. It’s not _fair_ and you deserved better, and I want you to have better…” he wiped his eyes, frowning. “ _I want you to understand_.”

Maul took this in for a long moment, the blood from his nose trailing down to plip on the ground. He finally shook his head.

“There is some good in this galaxy, Darth Maul,” Anakin whispered, and Maul’s expression flattened.

“Did you just quote one of those stupid books at me?”

“I did,” Anakin answered with a nod and a laugh, wiping at his eyes again. “And it’s right. It’s right and it’s true and it’s _good_. I know you haven’t seen it; I know you haven’t…but it does exist. Let us prove it to you, please, Darth Maul…”

“It does not matter,” he said roughly. “There is nothing else for me.”

“Darth Maul,” Qui-Gon said, and Anakin started at the hand on his shoulder, having forgotten that his Teacher was there, suddenly coming to realize that the Guards still stood there, Tiq as well, kneeling next to him. “You do not…you can still learn from us,” he said softly. “We will still teach you. There is something else that is on offer here. Please, Darth Maul, let us teach you. Your Master has stripped everything good and everything right from you, but it does not have to be this way. He is gone, but you still live, and you can become something more than what he has molded you into. Do not let yourself be trapped by someone who no longer exists.”

Maul stared at him for a long moment, before wiping the blood from his nose, and closing his eyes.

It was not a yes, but for the first time it was not a no. Tiq told them to leave then, taking the water and the fruit and working on entering. Maul let him, and Anakin was pleased to note that there were no binders in use. Anakin hated Maul’s Master, but…for the first time, in his death he felt that they had a chance.

Anakin had hope.


	12. Holiday Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas people, here's an alternate perspective for the first part of Chapter 11. Sorry it's not a full chapter but I couldn't get the image out of my head and I've been laughing about it for ages now, sooooo. Now you all get it LOL.

BONUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, happy holidays for those that don't, may everyone's 2021 be better if I don't update in time to wish you all Happy New Year~ 
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me~ I hope you all have a wonderful day~


	13. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the dangers of a Hug and the meaning of Hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking Heavy Cues from both Darth Plagueis and The Wrath of Darth Maul, this is a peek into what was. 
> 
> What is will be returned to in the next chapter.

Sidious watched quietly as the young child went through his drills. He watched that small form jump, and run, and touch his toes, reaching into the air as high as he could… All things that would increase his coordination, increase his mobility.

Deenine, as it was called, was in charge of making sure that the boy was thrown throughout their fights, tossed around the room so his vestibular system was activated and he grew used to the feeling of leaving the ground, of his balance. There was also simply the fact of his proprioception, of learning how his body moved, of where he began and ended. All of these things were integral in making sure that the boy before him did not…toddle. Was controlled and upright in his posture…

That the boy could handle the things that Sidious needed him to do. That he could handle the sticks that were given to him, that he could fight and had the muscle-mass to do it.

Sidious watched as the timer finally dinged and the child stood there, controlling his breath, the only sign of his fatigue the way those piercing yellow eyes closed, hiding the glow that Sidious knew was there. It was that sight, though, that reminded him of another fact.

That boy had now become his Apprentice.

That boy had finally accessed the Force.

Three years old, and he had called the training weapon from across the room, had managed to break it on Deenine’s metal shell.

He had been punished, of course, for the breaking of the stick, but Sidious was… Pleased.

The Apprentice may even gain a name, soon, though Sidious was still thinking of what.

His Apprentice was Dathomirian, and as such should have been marked for what he was, and given a name… But Sidious had taken him before either could be performed, had felt the moment the child was born and come to take him.

Sidious had felt the stirrings in the Force, the life that screamed of Dark so loudly he had heard it in Naboo and had come then to claim him. The knowledge that the child was a twin, had a brother whose life had been intertwined with his and yet sang so brightly of Light…well. That was all the better.

A severed twin-bond would make the child Hunger, and that Hunger could be turned to Passion, which could easily be turned to Rage, and Hate, and Fear.

Sidious would have an Apprentice that was Made for Dark, was Made for Power, and would stand beside him. Sidious could see the loyalty in the way the child looked up at him, see the open admiration and devotion… And unlike Sidious himself, who stared up at his Master with open admiration and hidden guile… There was none of that hatred within his Apprentice.

His Apprentice had no knowledge of the agony that Sidious was giving him.

His Apprentice merely knew that Sidious was making him strong.

And so, Sidious was.

Sidious had no time for a weak Apprentice, and the boy before him would burn with power, would rattle the stars themselves… Sidious could see it.

He just needed to find out how to unlock it.

But for now, Sidious watched as the Apprentice turned to his less…physical lessons, instead going towards the ones that challenged his mind.

The Apprentice sat on his chair, having to climb to properly sit in it, his legs sticking straight-out on the seat itself… His Apprentice was three years old. He was too small to do otherwise. After a moment where he adjusted the straps and the program, he finally put the sensor over his head, carefully slotting his small but very sharp horns in the holes that were cut for them, before putting the screen over his eyes, and slotted his hands in the cuffs that would shock him if he missed an answer or was too slow.

Sidious was quiet, watching as his Apprentice gave his answers.

He was only shocked twice in the first twenty minutes that Sidious watched.

Sidious was _pleased_.

But Sidious expected perfection, and he would be sure that his Apprentice knew that. Sidious would punish him, but he would be sure that the boy knew why, that it would be framed in such a way that his Apprentice would understand that Sidious was only looking out for him…

Mistakes would get him killed.

They were Sith, and the time was soon coming when they would reveal themselves, and the boy before him would be an integral part in the fight against their enemies, and Sidious did not wish for the one he had spent so much time perfecting to be cut down so quickly.

There was the smallest stirring of something else in that thought. The smallest stirring of possessive worry. The Apprentice before him was his, had been stolen by his own hands, taken from a boy who screamed…

Sidious had left him alive, too, had known that he was not a twin, but nonetheless would have formed a bond with the child regardless.

More bonds to sever.

More things to induce Hunger…

And Sidious knew that his Apprentice Hungered. He kept him in that state almost constantly, feeding him raw meat and starving him of light, of hope, of… Touch.

Sidious made sure that the only touch the boy craved was his own.

Sidious was surprised then, when the boy was shocked harsher, more violently than he had yet seen, and finally called out, crying in pain and confusion, and recognized that this, then, was an answer that the boy had no idea how to give. Deenine scuttled forward, turning off the simulation, and dragged him out of the chair, throwing him across the room to land on the training mats.

Sidious watched as the fall was turned into a clumsy roll, that nonetheless mitigated any true damage that could be done to him. His Apprentice came out of that roll breathing hard, his yellow eyes flaring with confusion and fear, and he looked up at Sidious… And pressed his forehead flat to the mats.

“I am sorry, Master,” he said, that small child’s voice thick with unshed tears and confusion.

Sidious approached until he was standing directly above him, Deenine off to the side, awaiting instructions.

“Tell me, Apprentice,” Sidious asked softly, walking slowly around the body. “What caused you such confusion?”

His Apprentice kept his forehead pressed to those mats, though Sidious did not expect that they were hiding tears in a way he had when his Apprentice had been younger, when he had not truly realized that tears did nothing, were merely a sign of weakness.

“I did not know what the Twi’lek was doing,” he said softly, and Sidious tilted his head.

“Explain.”

“She…” the Apprentice hesitated, “may I stand, sir?”

“Apprentice,” Sidious said in soft acknowledgement, taking his own step back, watching as his Apprentice stood, before looking up at him with those wide yellow eyes.

“There was a little boy,” he said with a frown, “also a Twi’lek, and she held him like this…” the boy held his own body carefully, the movements slightly awkward, unused to the way they wrapped around himself… Sidious looked at this for a moment, realizing that it was a hug that had so confused his young Apprentice.

A _hug_.

Sidious thought for a moment of those infrequent touches, the slightest brush of a finger to a forehorn, the way that head would instinctively lean into it, unable to help… Sidious thought of his hand on the boy’s head, the moments when he allowed himself to actually pick the child up, the way his Apprentice leaned towards him, that small body instinctively seeking a touch that it was lacking.

Sidious thought of the Hunger that he was still trying to drive into his Apprentice and looked at him quietly.

“It is called a hug,” Sidious said softly, “it is a sign of weakness.”

His Apprentice lowered his arms almost immediately, staring up at him expectantly.

“The boy was not strong enough and had to turn to his mother for comfort. It is a sign that he was too weak to stand on his own,” Sidious explained softly, looking down at him. “A sign that whatever was hurting him was something he could not face alone, so he ran to his mother.” Sidious made sure to sneer at him, to curl his lips in a way that spoke of nothing more than utter derision.

His Apprentice looked up at him with those eyes that held nothing more than want. Want of knowledge, want of understanding, and they stared up at him with the belief that Sidious would answer his questions, would give him the knowledge that he _needed_ … The faith given to him was so like a child, so like an innocent… Sidious stared at _this_ child who looked up at him with so much belief and trust…

“You are too strong for that,” he said, his brows raised just so. “You would not show weakness in that manner, would you?”

“No, sir!” his Apprentice answered, shaking his head fiercely.

“No,” Sidious said softly, “of course you would not. You are strong, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” his Apprentice nodded, looking up with those eyes, as though begging for the opportunity to prove it…

“Your lack of knowledge must still be punished, of course,” Sidious said softly, and his Apprentice bowed, low and humble.

“I am sorry, my Master,” he said softly.

“You know, of course, why this punishment is given?”

“Mistakes can be fatal,” he said, “I must not make them.”

“Good,” Sidious said softly. His Apprentice closed his eyes, bowed his head, and Sidious introduced him to lightning. His Apprentice held in his screams until his lip split, until he could handle no more, and finally let them out, writhing. And then finally Sidious stopped, taking a step back. “Good,” he said softly, “now direct the pain within. Breathe with it. Let it make you strong. You are not like that little boy. You are not like that _weakling_.”

“Yes, Master,” his Apprentice said through chattering teeth, blood trickling from his lip to his knee. Sidious felt as his Apprentice worked on meditation, as he closed his eyes and threw the pain the fear the _hate_ of the weakness that had been shown. 

Sidious felt that power grow and was pleased.

“Get cleaned up,” Sidious finally said after his Apprentice was finished and the boy stood up and bowed, walking away without a single tremble.

Sidious then found he was proud.

And then he sensed the presence that had been hidden from him, and he closed his eyes and drew upon all of the reserves of respect he had.

“My Master,” Sidious said, turning to bow to the Muun that stood there. “Dismissed,” Sidious said in passing to Deenine, who immediately scuttled off.

Darth Plagueis walked forward; long limbs leading him to move almost eerily smooth as he walked to stand before him. Plagueis gaze was turned in the direction of where his Apprentice had gone. Sidious kept the bitter possessiveness down in his chest where it belonged, hidden beneath the reverence.

“You must be careful, Sidious,” Plagueis said softly, and Sidious felt a momentary flash of anger. Plagueis seemed to catch it, looking down upon him with a gaze that spoke of amusement, but his gaze soon turned sharp. “You will ruin him.”

“Ruin?” Sidious asked softly. “I cannot see how. Already he is strong, already he is in full possession of his body…and he will only get better.”

“And yet you would remove from him the ability to connect with people…the ability to treat others with compassion…”

“What use is there in compassion?”

“The gaining of their trust,” Plagueis answered with a raised brow, staring down at him. “Surely you would know this. Surely you would recognize your own machinations and the compassion that you weave within it.”

“I thought my Apprentice was to be an Assassin, not a manipulator,” Sidious returned easily.

Plagueis’ expression shifted slightly, before he looked away again. “True,” he said. “But stripping him of basic comforts will only make him harder to control, more prone to anger without focus. This, Sidious, is a _waste_.”

Sidious said nothing, content to let his Master prattle.

“Even then…an Assassin must be able to get close. An Assassin must be able to gain the trust of the one he wishes to kill. You must give him the tools to do so, Sidious, or else _he_ is a waste.”

There was a silence between them, Sidious waiting patiently for the further lecture, knowing it was coming…knowing…

“Does he have a name yet?”

“He has not earned it,” Sidious returned. “He knows that he is my Apprentice, and this is enough.”

“For now,” Plagueis agreed softly, “but what happens when it is not? What happens when he sees enough to recognize that he has been manipulated? What happens when someone hugs him and he realizes that his body is screaming for it in a way that cannot _just_ come from weakness, when he knows that he is strong and yet he still can only think of someone holding him tighter?”

Sidious tilted his head slowly, looking to his Master. “I thought you would have approved,” he said finally, a small part of his being burning with ire as much as it burned with confusion. “Is not manipulation the way of the Sith?”

Plagueis was quiet for a long moment before looking at him. “I believe that there is a danger to this…sooner or later your manipulations will be laid bare. You may be creating the dagger that would point at your own heart.”

“He holds true affection for me,” Sidious rejoined softly. “He recognizes that he is getting stronger, that he will continue to get stronger if he is trained by me, and in the end, he recognizes that _Power_ is all that matters. Surely you cannot argue with that?”

Plagueis was quiet for a long moment before he finally bowed his head. “Surely, I cannot.” Plagueis stared at him for a long moment, “make sure that the power you are giving him is power that will remain. That he can _keep_. Make sure that it is power that is _his_.”

Sidious took this in for a moment. “I will grant him power. He will be strong, and he will be loyal.”

Plagueis took this in for yet another long moment, so long Sidious wished to snarl at him, to spit, to do something to break him from that contemplation that made him feel small. Made him feel _weak_.

“Then make sure that he never knows how much you have lied. Make sure that he never knows that a simple hug was not the weakness that you have made it out to be,” Plagueis’ mouth curled into a sneering smile.

“Is this not the Sith way?” Sidious challenged once again, tired of the repetition, tired of the advice.

Plagueis was quiet for a moment, taking this in, his expression momentarily surprised as though he thought he did not have to _answer_ this question. “Perhaps,” he said. “But you of all people should know that it does not have to be.”

Sidious had to fight to put away the sneer he wanted to make, had to fight against the bitter laugh he wished to give. Instead, he bowed, low and agreeing. “Of course, my Master,” Sidious said softly.

“Good,” Plagueis said, and there was pride in his voice, even as he looked at Sidious with those eyes… “If he does figure it out, Sidious, make certain that you have something that will make him come back. That will bind him to you tighter than any truth about the way you have treated him.”

Sidious thought for a moment of that flash of pride, the flash of affection.

Sidious thought of the small boy that obeyed every order and loved him unconditionally.

“I have one,” he said softly.

“Then good,” Plagueis said. “Keep it.”

“I will.”


	14. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (When those answers aren't something you want to hear,
> 
> And cannot accept just yet.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the repost, something went a bit weird in the original posting and I'm going to see if this fixes it.

Maul was _tired_.

Maul was tired in his bones, he was tired in his mind, he was tired in his soul.

Tired of the migraines, the bleeding, the moments of dizziness that laid him out until he could force himself to move again. Tired of seeking something _anything_ to distract him from what felt like endless suffering and finding he couldn’t focus. Maul was not a stranger to pain. Had become so accustomed to it he could work through most anything, but this was… _different_. Maul had not had to suffer through this much agony since he had learned how to feed his pain into the Force, since he had learned to make it work for him.

The collar blocked even that, and Maul was trapped with the knowledge that he could not utilize even his most basic of skills.

Maul could not turn the pain into power.

Maul could only live with it, a gnawing pain that was both worse and yet better than anything he had ever felt. The only thing that came close to the early weeks was perhaps the sensory deprivation suit he had been put in, the one where his entire mind seemed to focus on one single point and then erupt into nothingness. Maul had spent so much time unconscious…

This dizziness, this complete and utter lack of self, had finally stopped after what felt like too many weeks, after what had felt like the worst kind of torture… Because Maul no longer knew who the torture was _for_.

And this lack of knowledge _terrified_ him.

This is what caused Maul to be unable to sleep at night, and he had tried many, many things to distract himself from that fear… Maul had even tried to read that stupid book again, fighting through waves of dizziness… He had given up when a character had been introduced that had taken the ring that had so far been shown as a towering bastion of Dark and proceeded to not only cause it to vanish but chastised it for its behavior.

That was just…too strange. It didn’t fit the rules and he had struggled to understand where he fit in, but then was just annoyed that this was yet _another_ thing that he didn’t understand…

The book had gotten thrown across the room again, the loud thud it made as it smacked against the transparisteel doing nothing to help the building migraine. The lights had dimmed, and Maul had lied there quietly, holding his head, and…

And he didn’t _understand_.

And then the Healer that had been seeing to him, the one who had brought moments of respite from the unending torture, the one he _resented_ for this…

Healer Tiq had asked him a question that had joined with all of the other agonizing thoughts inside of his skull, a question that had joined with Skywalker’s anger and his tears as he begged for Maul to just let them ‘free him’ to just let them help:

“Why do you think your Master did not _let_ you understand?”

And that question had eaten into him like a _maggot_. There were obvious answers to this, of course. His Master had not seen the answers as important, he saw them as things that would distract him from his teachings, as things that were irrelevant to the goal of rising the Sith from the shadows they had been hiding in all this time… But…

But…

But a Slave boy from Tatooine knew of these things.

But the Jedi looked at him as though it was meant to be _obvious_.

But some of it had been a lack of knowledge of his own _body_ , of something that could have been an _asset_ to him. Even now he had begun to try and utilize his horns, pulling at them to try and alleviate some of the agony that burned…

They worked.

They _worked_ , and his Master had never… Why would they not tell him of such things? Why would they not when the knowledge was helpful, in some ways _integral_? Why would they do so much to strip him of knowledge? And yet…did he not know the answer?

Did he not know the words that were whispered in his ear, the words that told him he was not an _animal_ and should not allow himself to be treated as such? That he should not act upon those weaknesses… Did he not know the electricity that burned when…?

Maul let the thoughts slip from his mind like water from his hands. His healing mind always hurt worse when he tried to cling to these memories, and Maul needed to get better, he needed…he needed to _heal_.

Maul needed to get back to his Master…

Maul knew they were not dead.

Maul knew that this was just another test, that they just took his memories so Maul could prove himself, that they were just covering their tracks…

Could prove himself… Wasn’t he always proving himself? Hadn’t he…hadn’t he _already_? Maul understood that his place was as the Apprentice, that he was meant to take orders. That he was…

But Maul remembered the feeling of bitter hatred towards a Master that promised power but only gave the Apprentice enough knowledge to build a bastard Order.

And wasn’t _that_ what Maul would create? Was he meant to live in his Master’s shadow for all time? Maul had not meant to kill his Master, but there was no doubt that he would live longer if only due to his species, and eventually Maul would stand to inherit what they would have gained. Why would his Master not seek to give him true knowledge? Why would he have…?

And then there was the nagging possibility that Maul had known the answers to these questions before. That Maul had known until his Master had stripped it of him…

But **_why_**?

Maul thought of Darth Vectivus and the way he talked about his own Apprentice, the pride in his voice, the way he had always talked of treating his Apprentice as an _equal_ …and wondered, idly, if his Master had ever talked about him like that. If he had seen what Maul had done and thought it was _good_. Did his Master ever have pride in him? Did his Master ever look at him and think of him with the love and respect that Maul…

Maul did remember the quiet words of affirmation, of praise, but how often had that been overshadowed by some manner of pain, some manner of punishment? Maul understood that his Master had been doing it for _him_. Maul understood that all of the pain that was given to him was meant to protect him, would ultimately have made him better, made him stronger, and so it had. Maul still remembered when his mind settled, when the pain had eased, that swell of power within him as he had fought against Yoda, had fought against the rest of them, and knew that it was so much _greater_ …

But ultimately…what did it _matter_? What did it matter when Maul no longer…when he did not…know… Maul did not **_know_**.

Why would his Master have taken that from him?

His Master had given him power, had given him a name, had given him the title of Apprentice…

And then he had stripped that away. Maul’s Master had stripped his identity, _himself_ away from him. Maul was now…less. Maul was now less than he had ever been, even as a child, because even as a nameless child he had known that the titles were his to win, were his to earn.

Now Maul had earned them, and now they had been stripped, removed, torn… Uprooted.

Maul had been…

Maul thought of a plant whose pot had broken, whose roots had been torn and whose leaves had been scattered… Stripped from its soil, its foundation…

Maul covered his head, fighting the thoughts back, fighting them _away_ , refusing to think of something so petty, something that had no…

The Jedi had given him that plant.

They had taken it away, but it had been in direct consequence to what Maul _himself_ had done and he understood, he understood how consequences worked, understood how _punishments_ worked. He had taken lives from them, and in the end… When Maul had asked, they had…they had given it _back_. Maul had taken it from a Guard that had walked directly up to him, one who had held it out in his hands and waited for Maul to take it, trusting that Maul would not hurt him and Maul… Maul had not.

He had thought of it, initially, but the more he considered it the less appealing it was. They had given him the plant back. They had…delivered on their word, given him what he had asked for and not… Maul had not had to _beg_. He had not had to hurt, to fall to his knees… Maul had _asked_.

Maul hadn’t even known how to take care of the stupid thing. Maul had just known that he had…it was such a simple thing. Such a stupid, utterly simple thing, and he had stared at it where he had placed it for the longest time, trying to understand…

And then it was gone.

His Master had taken it from him, too.

Maul had won his Apprenticeship. Had fought and bled and burned for it. Maul had hungered for it more than he had ever hungered for anything and Maul…

Maul knew hunger.

And Maul…Maul was so hungry in a way he had never… Maul _wanted_.

He wanted and he didn’t understand…

Maul thought of the sight of that plant shattered on the ground.

Maul thought of a voice calling him ‘Little Cousin’ and telling him that their place was _protecting_ him. _Him_ , when he had destroyed two of their Order, when he had…

Maul thought of a voice that would never speak again, of something else taken, of something else…

Maul did not understand the thing that curled within him. Maul did not know why he suddenly felt hollow.

Maul did not understand.

And Maul was so _tired_. 

Maul just wanted to _understand_.

* * *

Healer Tiq hurried back to the prisons, doing his best to appear that he was otherwise not hurrying, and also completely calm.

The Guards had wired them earlier with a warning that Maul seemed to be in severe emotional and physical distress, that he’d thrown a book for the first time in what felt like a very long time, and he just… He was not doing very well. Tiq had had to see to another patient, one that had been involved in trying to prevent a Genocide.

A Jedi was to let go, but sometimes they needed a little help…

This…this was one of those times where Tiq’s expertise was dearly needed, and Maul had been doing so much better. He had been doing so much better…

The Healer they had left called for aid, so Tiq would answer. Their Jedi had friends they could turn to, and Tiq had made sure they understood the recommended exercises, had been comfortable with Tiq leaving. Maul had people he only just was learning to tolerate… There was none of the trust that should be there, and Tiq… They needed to find a way to break through that. They _needed_ to. They needed to find a way for Maul to trust, or else it would be for nothing. 

Tiq had grabbed something from his office before he headed down to the prisons, hoping that it would be a start…

They had repotted the other plant but ultimately the shock of everything had been too much for the little thing that had already been ailing. Maul may have wanted it, but it was obvious he did not know how to care for it, though he had _tried_. The soil had been damp. Maul had been trying to water it, and ultimately had worked to care for it… But they had given him the plant without giving him the tools, and it was not fair for Maul to try only to fail.

It was not fair…

Tiq took a breath, shifting his little bundle and the Guards let him in.

Maul…did look bad.

The Zabrak was lying on his side, staring at nothing and that… Tiq had seen Maul several times before they came under attack, before Maul’s mind had been torn open. Tiq had seen Maul’s almost nonstop movement, the Zabrak remarkably kinetic in the way he operated within the world. To see him lay there, so still, barely even looking up at him.

Tiq looked to his colleague with a slight dip of his head, and his fellow Healer Soon bowed her head and left.

Tiq shifted his bundle, took a breath, and walked over to the small table, Maul watching him with his gaze. Tiq was careful to never show his back. While Maul recognized that Tiq was necessary, and that he was helping, showing his back was frankly too much of an insult. It was suggesting that Maul wasn’t highly competent and dangerous, even as he was, and Maul’s sense of self had been battered enough as it was.

Tiq would not be adding to it.

Maul’s golden eyes slowly shifted to stare at what Tiq was setting up, a frown tugging at his mouth.

It wasn’t like the first plant which had been more of a fern, instead a hardy little flowering plant, whose scent was said to relieve headaches and Maul absolutely needed that. Tiq had worked very hard to get one that was as strong as this one and had spent quite a bit of time spent in discussion with the AgriCorps before they had been able to get one to him.

A spray bottle, a bag of small pellets that could be used to fertilize the plant, and a small printed booklet of instructions on how to care for it was set out next to it as well. Maul hesitated for a moment, before finally sitting up, the movements stiffer than his usual grace and Tiq knew that he definitely had the remnants of a migraine. Tiq could see the book that was still pressed against the wall and nodded to it.

“Migraine?” he asked, his voice carefully modulated.

Maul made eye-contact with him and Tiq as a rule did not back down from patients, but Maul made it _hard_. Maul was well trained and perfectly capable of killing him with his bare hands, should Tiq not be prepared to defend himself. Tiq had made the decision to keep him out of the binders after seeing the way Maul’s hands went to his horns during migraines, recognizing it as the self-soothing behavior that it was and trying to promote it, actively encourage it. There was also an element of trust that he was giving, one that Maul had not broken yet. Mutual destruction there may be, but he was also trusting that Maul would see that and would decide it was not worth it.

Maul finally broke the eye contact, looking back to the plant, and finally, quietly, “Yes.”

Tiq nodded, “this might help,” he said finally, gesturing to the plant. “It’s a jahaal’got klesir, a…”

“Health-giving smell…?” Maul frowned slightly.

Tiq blinked, “You know Mandoa?”

Maul looked up at him in a way that suggested of course. Tiq didn’t think that was fair, they had hardly done any formal assessments and Maul was…an interesting study of contradictions when it came to what he knew. 

Tiq frowned. “We need to have an actual test at some point about what you actually know. Though perhaps…when you are less prone to migraines. How many days has it been since your last one?”

Maul blinked, before looking away, gaze momentarily darting towards the Guards before looking at the complete… There were no windows. There were no clocks.

“Forgive me,” Tiq said softly. “That was an unfair question. It’s been five days.”

Maul took that in for a moment, looking around at the cell that surrounded him.

“You have been in here for three months.”

Maul took that in for another moment and his expression was so… 

“You are healing well for what has been done to you,” Tiq said softly, keeping his voice firm. “The first month was mostly spent in unconsciousness. You cannot undersell what was done to you. When your Master…your Master was skilled and knew exactly what he was taking, but whatever he took…” Tiq shook his head. “The fissures in your mental walls were so deep, I was afraid it would take much longer to seal them. This is not time that was wasted or lost. This was time that you _needed_. I will not have you thinking this was something to regret.”

Maul’s expression shifted slightly, his brows pinched as he stared at him for a moment, before finally looking away.

“This…might help speed up the process,” Tiq said softly, gesturing to the plant. “It is Mandalorian which means that it is…well.” He smiled. “They are very hard to come by, but our AgriCorps was very aggressive in our dealings and they were willing to part with one.”

Maul took that in for a moment, before finally looking up at him.

“Because you are my patient and I want you to get better,” Tiq said. “Also, I’ve always wanted to have one of these plants. If you take good enough care of it I’ll be able to get clippings and make more of them.”

Maul hesitated, looking at it.

“Providing you wish to take care of it.”

Maul said nothing for a very long time and Tiq waited patiently, keeping his expression polite and anticipatory.

“How?”

Tiq beamed at him. “First,” he said, “let’s see if it actually works. Will you sit for me?”

Maul looked at him for a moment again and Tiq waited patiently.

So much of dealing with Maul was waiting, understandably so. Maul was still feeling him out for plenty of reasons, up to including the fact that Tiq was absolutely a Jedi. Maul was still very Dark aligned and there was an inherent distrust. The only thing that Tiq could do was be patient and continually show him that he had no reason to fear.

Maul had so much to fear.

That, Tiq thought, was the problem, and until Maul actually opened his mouth about what he was afraid of, until Tiq was able to get to the root of the problem… Maul would be unable to heal fully.

So, Tiq would be patient, and he would show Maul that there really was no reason to fear.

At least not from Tiq.

Tiq rather thought he still had a lot to fear from Maul.

But he breathed that fear in, and then breathed it out into the Force, and watched as Maul finally shifted back to his usual spot and sat down. The movements were still not as graceful, were still stiff and gangly, but Maul had only just come out of the growth spurt he had started in their care and he had been too weak to really get used to it yet.

Tiq thought that if his Master had left well enough alone Maul might have managed to get even taller, but as it was, he stood at 1.75 meters. This…was rather short for a Zabrak and Tiq cursed the Master who stole one last thing from him before dying. Passing from this world in chaos and leaving more messes behind. They would clean it up.

It would be alright.

Tiq rather thought it wouldn’t matter if Maul was technically below the average. Maul had almost bested a Master when he was even _shorter_ , which he rather suspected would be the thing that mattered to Maul.

Tiq took up the plant carefully and walked over to him, holding it out.

Maul hesitated before taking it, staring at first him and then the plant, and Tiq…wondered a bit. He had not really expected for this to be the thing that caused Maul to hesitate, but then he wondered a bit… Tiq saw out of the corner of his eye that the Guards had shifted slightly at the sight and he wondered if this was how the last plant had been handed to him.

Maul finally took it, his clawed hands gentle as they brushed his own, and finally he held it in his hands, before Tiq sat down before him, smiling, keeping his own legs crossed, and gestured for Maul to put it in his lap.

Maul frowned before he did so.

“Now breathe,” Tiq said softly. “Just breathe.”

Maul hesitated before taking a deep breath, and Tiq watched as Maul’s eyes slipped closed, his head falling slightly forward as the scent really hit him, and Tiq beamed.

Well. It seemed that they absolutely did live up to their name.

Tiq debated for a moment whether or not he would leave Maul to reorient himself, but eventually decided that it would be best if he stayed here. Though…he was rather afraid that Maul would consider it weakness that he reacted this way and knew that this would not do.

Tiq carefully stood, keeping his movements careful and soundless in the Force, walking over to the Guards, still not giving his back to Maul.

The Guards turned as he approached, saluting, and Tiq gave them a brief bow, keeping Maul in his peripheral vision. “I need you to get me a date and time piece,” he said. “Maul should be allowed to orient himself within his space now that he is getting better.”

The Guard to his left inclined their head regally, before saluting their twin and walking off.

Another Guard took their place barely ten seconds later.

Tiq turned to the room again, taking it in. They had returned most of the comforts that Maul had had before the first time he attempted to break out. There was a bed, the table that the plant would stay on, and a bunch of flimsi stacked on a shelf. 

Tiq looked to the flimsi that had been thrown against the wall and picked it up carefully, smoothing it out and walking back over to the table, putting it down gently. When the Guard returned Tiq smiled at them, walking over and taking the simple date and time piece and bringing it over to the table as well.

That done, Tiq found himself checking the time and realizing that Plo and Even would be up with Maul’s dinner shortly. The Council had really rallied themselves around being frequent visitors to Maul, even if he had been unable to really concentrate on anyone new coming, they were getting used to his presence, and the overall effect had been… Very good for them. Their resolve had strengthened, and Tiq was very glad for this fact.

Tiq nodded to himself before carefully looking to the bookshelf and perusing it, still not giving Maul his back.

Tiq watched when Maul finally snapped out of it, blinking and pulling his head actively away from the flowers, watching as he wiped at his eyes, his nose, and put the flowers down, his eyes darting around before finally locking on Tiq.

Tiq was careful to straighten slowly, to turn his attention to Maul like he had just noticed his attention.

“How is your head?” he asked, still keeping his voice modulated.

Maul took a breath, and Tiq paid no attention to the way his hands shook as he put the plant down. Maul reached up carefully, gently touching his temple horn and then finally looking back to Tiq.

“It…does not hurt,” he said finally, and the look he was giving him…

Tiq idly wondered how often Maul’s pain had been taken away and not given and fought to keep his expression even.

“I am pleased,” Tiq allowed himself to smile at him widely. “I have gotten you a date and time piece,” he said, gesturing to it on the table. “And you will have your dinner brought to you shortly. We have enough time to squeeze in a lesson about caring for that plant if you wish?”

Maul took this in for a moment, before finally nodding carefully, the way of someone expecting for it to hurt, and stood up, taking the plant with him.

Tiq showed him how to mix the solution that would need to be sprayed on the plant every two weeks in order to keep it producing those flowers, helping Maul set the date on the time piece to alert him with a gentle vibration that would not aggravate any headaches. He also showed him that it needed to be misted every so often, how it was primarily a desert plant and therefore did not need much water, and then Plo and Even approached with Maul’s dinner, and he bowed to them, bowed to Maul, and left.

All in all…it had been a productive visit.

Tiq was _pleased_. He also thought that the decision to introduce Maul to someone who was…a good deal smaller, was probably going to go well.

Tiq did not leave entirely, parking himself off to the side well within earshot if not sight, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to wait. Maul had no pain and was in a tolerant enough mood. It would be a good chance to see how he reacted to something…much weaker than he was. But infinitely surer of themselves, and that sureness and their closeness to another was something that he needed Maul to see.

Maul was beginning to question, and Tiq could see that quite plainly. It was time to really start working on guiding those questions.

It was also safer in the long run for Maul to see that there was no true need for the Rule of Two. It would be better for his future.

* * *

It had been a hard three months.

Maul spending so much time unconscious, in pain, or otherwise completely unaware had been…difficult to deal with.

Plo had been involved very heavily with his treatment in the beginning, helping Tiq and Healer Che both extensively.

Plo had now held Maul precisely eleven times in the first month, whether that was holding his head up, adjusting him so they could give him an injection, or holding him up while they changed bandages… The recovery process had been slow and full of so much pain Plo had seen Tiq frequently himself. The worst of it was Maul had only recently been able to even _start_ processing everything, and Plo could see that in him.

Mostly in the way he seemed to keep from processing anything. Though this was just another step in the process, Tiq had assured. And frankly wondered whether or not Maul did most of his processing internally.

Tiq had been overjoyed when he finally managed to get the plant from the AgriCorps, and Plo rather hoped that it would be just what they needed. The only thing that still lingered with any particular level of _violence_ were the migraines, and the hope was to be able to beat them back enough to be able to let him heal in other ways.

Maul needed it. He absolutely needed the ability to process.

Maul needed to be able to grieve, while still seeing that he had a _future_.

Plo, Eeth, and Even walked together, Plo and Eeth keeping their steps even for the diminutive Jedi Master on Plo’s right, the three of them laughing quietly as they talked.

They were also walking a little slower than usual for the child that was following them. She was play-stalking, and they were being careful to let her continue to do so, pausing just long enough when she hid underneath tables, or behind corners. When she stumbled, they were careful to not watch her, even as Plo had to desperately hide his grin, Eeth had to breathe heavily through his nose, and Even had to look very firmly at the ceiling.

She was a little carnivore and they needed to encourage those behaviors to ensure she grew up healthy and well adjusted. There was also that ceremony she needed to perform as well, and as Shaak was consistently coaching, and Eeth agreed with, it was good to promote those behaviors as much as possible.

It was also good to introduce her to other older carnivores, though this one was…something that would have to be introduced carefully, and definitely needed to be kept behind a barrier. There were plenty others that were much safer, the man on his left was an obvious choice, but even so…

Tiq had suggested that Maul needed to be introduced to the other one that Plo was caring for early, to understand that she was not a threat to him, and he did not need to be a threat to her. They needed to start thinking of Maul outside of the prison he was currently in. They needed to start thinking of Maul with a future that may involve the Temple, and that meant beginning to slowly peel back things that would hurt that possibility.

Thinking that he had to be in a direct competition for affection?

Completely unacceptable.

Thinking that Maul would be replaced with something easier?

Also completely unacceptable.

He needed to start learning about how children were treated within the Temple, and…to see how _he_ should have been treated.

Realizing that Maul had been a Sith since birth had been…a painful shock, one that sometimes still stole Plo’s breath. Either way…they had an opportunity to make sure that Maul’s future was nothing like his past. Plo looked to Tiq as they passed, and he nodded firmly, which was a burst of relief. If Tiq had thought that Maul would not have been up for the little one, he would have scooped her up and brought her back to the crèche.

Maul had had enough unpleasant surprises.

This…would hopefully be a good thing.

They were prepared if it was not and they would be able to get their little one out of there before any damage was done, intentionally or otherwise. She would be safe and so would he.

Plo and Even both brought Maul food, Eeth holding the glass that contained water and medications, though they all had small snacks for the one currently stalking them.

Tiq let their little carnivore hide behind him, pretending to not notice how she was currently holding onto his shoulder and peeking out from behind him, when they turned to look after her. All three deliberately turned their attention very obviously towards Maul. Plo noticed Maul’s attention rising up to them from where he had sat, waiting patiently…

And this of course was when little Ahsoka made her move.

Ahsoka dove forward, giving a very tiny, but appropriately vicious growl as she wrapped hold of Plo’s leg. Plo immediately gave a call of surprise, pretending to let her down him, and letting the little one dive into his lap, laughing aloud. Eeth and Even were both grinning, Eeth easily taking Plo’s tray from him with the Force and placing them both in the necessary slot so it could get to Maul.

“I got you, I got you!” she called out.

Plo’s attention was half on her and half on Maul, who was watching the Togruta with a very…unreadable look, even as he called out, “You did! Very well done, Ahsoka~!”

Plo did not know precisely what Maul was thinking, watching as he slowly tilted his head, watching Ahsoka as she moved in for a proper hug, even as the slot opened to give him food.

Maul spared it a glance, and went right back to watching Ahsoka, who registered the eyes on her, blinking, before looking back towards Maul.

Plo was unsurprised when she decided that the best way to get a closer look at the Zabrak was to actively fall backwards onto his lap and roll out of it with a series of quiet sounds, and then move towards Maul. Plo watched lekku twitch in curiosity, her little head tilting to the right as she looked at him, pressing her hands on the transparisteel.

Maul watched her closely, his own head tilting, golden eyes staring at her.

Whatever Maul thought was not evident yet, what Ahsoka thought was immediately made evident with a quiet, “woo~oah! You’re cooo~ooool! What are _you_? You have horns! Are you a Zabrak like Nikki? But Nikki is a girl, are you a girl? Or are you a boy like Eeth? But they have hair, and you don’t have any! You’re _red_ , right? I’m orange! And blue, and white, look, see! I have three colors on my skin, but that’s normal for a Togruta! Do you only have _two_ colors? Red and black? I don’t like black, black is scary, it’s under beds and in closets and it wants to bite. Is it dinner time for you? I ate already, it was good, I had bantha~ It was so nice! What are you having? What’s your favorite color?”

“Ahsoka, Ahsoka,” Plo laughed aloud, which started both Eeth and Even in quiet chuckles, taking pity on the Zabrak who had leaned as far back as he could while still remaining upright, and looked very much like he was unsure whether or not he should escape to the refresher. “One at a time, Ahsoka! You haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Oh!” Ahsoka called out, “I’m sorry!” she said then, smiling at Maul and revealing two missing teeth. “My name is Ahsoka Tano, but you can call me Ahsoka! What’s your name?”

Maul took in this question for a very long moment, and Ahsoka waited patiently, though was very obviously bobbing in place.

Maul stared at her and finally, quietly, “Maul.”

“Maul?” she asked, and Plo could see her nose wrinkling in the reflection in the transparisteel. “That’s funny sounding!”

Maul raised a brow slowly. “Thank you.”

Ahsoka took this in for a moment and then her eyes went very wide. “Oh! Was that rude? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to be mean! They’re saying that all sorts of people have very different names, and I shouldn’t be judging because it’s not familiar to me! Is it normal where you’re from? I’m five! How old are you?”

Maul stared at her for another long moment. “Five?” he asked.

“No, _silly_ , _I’m_ five, you can’t be five, you’re too _big_!”

Maul blinked, and then shook his head, “Apologies, I was… _you_ are five?”

“Yes!” She held up the necessary fingers so he could see. “This many!”

Maul slowly inclined his head once.

“How old are you?” she asked again.

“I…” Maul took a breath, looking from her, to Plo, to Eeth, to Evan, to her, and then finally, “I do not know.”

Ahsoka balked. “You don’t _know_? How can you not know! Do you know how many fingers it is?” she held up her hands as though to illustrate, looking at his as though he should hold up his hands and count with her, “Maybe I can help!”

Maul tilted his head and finally shook his head. “I do not know how many fingers.”

Ahsoka gasped, which…frankly was a reaction Plo himself wanted to echo. He could also see the other two tensing next to him. “No fingers? Did they not celebrate your birthday?”

“Who is they?”

“Your friends!” she called out, “don’t you have any friends?”

Maul tilted his head and shook it finally. “No.”

Ahsoka banged on the transparisteel, her expression first devastated and then appalled and then angry. “I’ll be your friend! You can be my friend, Maul!”

Maul tilted his head at her slowly. “You do not want to be my friend.”

Ahsoka stomped, “Yes I do!”

Maul frowned slightly, sending them a brief glance, and then looking back at her. “Do you know why I am in here?”

Ahsoka paused and then seemed to really realize that Maul was behind transparisteel. “Can you come out?”

“No,” Maul said simply.

“…Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

  
“Then…why are you stuck there?”

Maul watched her for a moment, his gaze sharp and thoughtful, before nodding to Plo and the others. “Ask them.”

That…was a very reasonable answer to that question, and Plo was rather pleased Maul had gone with it.

Plo looked to Even, who looked to Eeth, and then back to Ahsoka that was looking at them expectantly.

“Maul…” Even said, looking to Maul with the slightest glance to see if he was offended at the loss of his title, Maul merely tilted his head as though to say, ‘go ahead,’ “has been taught some very destructive and…honestly self-destructive behaviors. These behaviors lead to him hurting others if he is given freedom, and he needs to be taught yet that this is not something he needs to be. Until he learns that, little one, he must remain in there.”

Ahsoka took this in for a moment, before looking to Maul. “You hurt people?”

“I have,” Maul returned easily.

“You killed people?”

Plo was momentarily startled at the question, but the fact remained that Ahsoka was a carnivorous species. They killed to eat, it was a simple matter of life, and therefore it made sense that they would make a quicker jump to the killing of sentients.

“I have,” Maul answered. “I have killed Jedi.”

“Are you sorry?” Ahsoka asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“There’s no reason to be,” Maul frowned, and there was…confusion in that gaze. “I was better than they were. They fought with honor and were brave enough to stand between me and the way out and that is enough to make them a credit to their Order at the least… But ultimately they were between me and where I needed to go.”

“…So, you killed them?”

“Yes.” 

“But you did not kill _all_ of them?”

Maul tilted his head slightly. “Needless.”

Ahsoka took that in for a moment, and Plo found himself doing the same. Plo also found himself looking to the Guards, whose heads had bowed slightly, but whose grip on the pikes had…slackened. Their body language was not angry, nor hurt…it was…oddly calm.

That…was not what Plo had been expecting. A quick glance towards his fellow Council members showed they were feeling the same way. There was a remarkable lack of…passion in such a thing. Though Plo wondered if at the time…perhaps…

It was something that would be discussed later. At the moment, Ahsoka just looked _sad_. She touched the transparisteel and quietly, softly, “I can’t be your friend yet, Maul.”

“I know,” Maul said easily. “You likely never will be.”

Ahsoka took that in for a moment and then shook her head, “I don’t think so,” she said softly. “They just haven’t taught you how to care yet,” she nodded, her expression firm in the way of a small child that had figured everything out. “But I know you’ll learn, and then you _will_ be sorry, and we can be friends!”

Maul said nothing.

Ahsoka turned, gave the three Council members all very tight hugs, gave one last look to Maul, and walked over to Tiq, who picked her up and walked away, quietly encouraging Ahsoka to talk.

There was a pause, Maul taking a moment to process, before walking over towards the slot and taking the food easily, placing it down before him, and sitting, before his gaze slid towards Even.

“Even Piell,” he introduced easily with a nod. “Apologies for the drop of your title, Darth Maul, I wasn’t sure it was time to explain the intricacies of Sith philosophy.”

“And do you _know_ the intricacies of Sith philosophy?” Maul asked softly, biting into one of the now cold cuts of meat.

Even took a moment, looking to Plo, “I thought I did.”

Maul hummed quietly, thoughtfully, and then returned to eating. Plo fell into meditation, feeling both men do the same on either side of him, taking a deep breath and centering.

Plo rather thought he would need it.

* * *

Maul ate quietly, letting himself sink slowly into thought. That had been…unexpected.

Maul could not understand why they had brought the youngling to meet him, or…honestly, much of anything that had happened.

Ahsoka Tano was…interesting. Maul had never encountered another child like her, and frankly, could not ever imagine one behaving like she did. She had been…chattering, loud, and the questions she had asked…

Maul could not imagine ever not knowing the answers to those questions. Maul could not imagine going up to another living being and… Ultimately, Maul did not understand why they would bring her here to begin with.

Unless…Maul thought of the way she had clung to Plo, the way she had… Maul hesitated to call it stalking, having been aware of her presence since before she was even visible, and… But they could not be saying they were going to stop trying to ‘free’ Maul, not when the competition was a girl who had to be… She had to be…

Maul finished eating, before slowly putting the dishes back in the slot, knowing that they were going to start talking to him now. But Maul… Maul had a question first.

“Is…is she perhaps…simple?” he asked finally, trying to think of the most delicate way to approach it. Maul was absolutely not expecting for the laughs that this received, all three of them smiling at him, something warm and almost teasing in the look.

“Oh no,” Plo said with a shake of his head, “she is actually rather advanced for her age. You obviously have not been around many younglings before, but I do assure you that she is actually very smart and…”

Maul did not know what his own expression was doing, but he could not help but feeling suddenly very…

“Advanced?” Maul repeated softly.

There was a pause.

“Yes,” Even said, “her emotional intelligence and insight is a little above a child her age. What she said to you at the end, for example, about…” Even hesitated, before looking to the Guards.

“You do not have to be sorry,” the Guard to his left said, their voice modulated, but even, and Maul watched as those slits turned to look at him. “Her intentions were good, but I wish to tell you, Darth Maul, that you do not have to grovel, or beg. Ahsoka may be advanced for her age, but she does not understand fully what is happening or why. If perhaps you find that you cannot be sorry…the only thing we need from you is to know that it was _wrong_.”

Maul blinked, frowning.

“Precisely,” Eeth said, gesturing. “The point is, Darth Maul, that she is perfectly normal for a child her age.”

Maul said nothing for a very long moment, remembering with bitter bitter clarity his own childhood, his own… Maul’s Master would have beaten him, and to not have recognized Maul’s species, or…

“Normal?”

Plo stared at him for a long moment. “What was yours like?”

“My Master would have beaten me if I behaved like that,” Maul said roughly.

There was a very, very long pause.

“How precisely did he want you to behave?” Eeth asked, waving his hand, sounding almost genuinely…angry? “Was he expecting you to act like a little adult? Did he think that you shouldn’t play, or stalk or…?”

“He made me stalk…” Maul said softly. “But the things I stalked hit back.”

Maul did not understand.

“What did you stalk?”

Maul thought, for a moment considering, before he shook his head and opened a hand.

“Darth Maul, there is no…” Plo took a breath, soft and gentle, “your Master is no longer with us. There is no reason to not…”

Maul stared at him, Dark and hate and how…dare he. How dare they. Maul knew he was alive, he knew he was alive, he…

“Darth Maul,” Even said, and his voice was firm and dark and grounding in a way Plo’s tone was usually not. “Ignoring the fact that your Master is… What reason do you have to keep your childhood secret? What use could it have?”

Maul said nothing.

Frankly, there was nothing that he could give them. Maul did not know who his…he did not know and… And a part of Maul wanted to know, and was so scared to find… and finally, quietly, “a Droid.”

There was a pause. “A…mouse droid?”

Maul sneered slowly. “I’m not quite sure what model he was. TD-D9, or Deenine…six arms, multiple photoreceptors. And a stick.” Maul frowned. “I remember that stick…”

Maul…had not expected for the way the Guards had turned to stare at him, too. Had not expected for the…

“A _stick_?”

Maul held up his little finger, “About this big around. He had it until I managed to use the Force to rip it from him and broke it over him.”

“…How long did that take?” Even asked, his voice…forcefully even.

Maul frowned, for a moment uncertain. “I…” he paused, frowning. “I do not know.”

“Can you…you saw Ahsoka, yes, do you remember how many teeth you had? Do you remember how sharp your horns were?” Eeth asked, indicating his own.

“My horns have always been sharp,” Maul answered, shaking his head.

“Surely not,” Eeth returned, shaking his head, “your poor mother?”

Maul took that in for a moment, even as Plo smacked Eeth on the shoulder and Even started laughing, before giving a slight shrug. “Since I can remember they have been sharp.”

That…silenced them.

“Were you taller or shorter than Ahsoka?”

Maul stared at where Ahsoka had been standing for a moment before shaking his head, “shorter.” He placed his own head roughly a head beneath hers and there was…

“That is…” Plo hesitated, before softly, “ _very_ powerful Force work for someone so young…”

“I was angry.”

“I should think so,” Eeth said roughly, “to have you stalking something so dangerous so young. Multiple photoreceptors,” Eeth was rubbing his face. “That’s _obscene_. That’s _disgusting_. You were…” Eeth shook his head, “you do not know how old you are?”

Maul…did not like these questions. He did not like where things were going. He did not like that they called that _normal_ that they were looking at him like… Maul was not an object of _pity_.

Maul bared his fangs.

“There’s no reason to get defensive,” Plo said softly, “if you do not it is hardly like it is _your_ fault.”

“Of course, it isn’t your fault,” Even snapped. “Of course, it wouldn’t be. You can only act upon what you _know_ , and your Master has kept so much from you.”

“You should have never been forced to stalk something that big that young, to have so many photoreceptors, you…” Eeth shook his head. “That can seriously discourage a young one… The first thing that you must teach a little one is that they can sneak up on something. That they _can_ be successful at a hunt. For you to have had so much against you so early…”

Maul did not know why they were looking at him like that. Did not know why their expressions had shifted to something more… Maul did not know. Maul did not know.

“I don’t understand,” Maul said roughly, the admittance bitten between clenched teeth.

Eeth was quiet for a moment, “And does that not make you wonder why? Why did your Master keep so much from you? Why didn’t your Master raise you properly, so you _did_ understand? Why would your Master be so controlling with what you knew? Maul…you have already said that you did not wish to kill your Master, and yet is that not the way of the Sith?”

“Is it?” Maul asked, his eyes narrowed, anger and so much buzzing hatred flowing through him he thought he would _burn_ with it. He could not do this anymore, he couldn’t. He couldn’t… Maul knew how this went. He knew what would happen, he could not, he could not. 

“ _Maul_ ,” Plo’s voice was soft, and Maul found his eyes closing, before he finally looked over to meet his gaze. “Please,” he said softly, “think about this. It is right there; you know what we are saying is true. Please, Maul. We just want to help you, please let us help you.”

Maul was trembling and he could not do this anymore. He could not. He could not.

Maul stood, and he fled to the only place that was actually reasonably private, to the one place they would not follow, and that was the refresher. Maul closed the door behind him and sunk to the ground, wrapping himself and… His fingers had found their way into his fangs again and he had not done that in so long, his head was pounding for the first time since he had smelled that plant, and he…

Maul…

Could not breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year~


	15. Shatter (and Mend)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Maul hates the words 'I'm sorry...'
> 
> And takes the first...
> 
> Stumbling
> 
> Step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard. It was hard and it went through four revisions and I think...honestly I think this is one of the best I've ever written. But it does have
> 
> WARNINGS: This chapter begins with a panic attack - the advice Tiq gives is accurate, grounding yourself (literally), putting your hands over your mouth to force yourself to breathe through your nose, or otherwise dunking your face (entire body) in cold water is all good for stopping panic.  
> The rest of this chapter is written in a sort of...fugue. Maul is suffering from catatonia. Catatonia is often associated with schizophrenia, but that is not what is happening here. It can also be associated with Depression which. is a lot more what is happening.  
> Annnnnd... Tissue warning. 
> 
> That said: Maul gets a hug. 
> 
> Outside of the warnings, this chapter features the one change I have made (so far) to Maul's Legends Wrath of Darth Maul past - and that's mainly because a. the fact that Mandalorians adopt any child they see is amazing. b. Maul is a lot younger than in canon c. Maul had to get his honor from somewhere, and frankly it made sense. 
> 
> There are several quotes straight from the Wrath of Darth Maul novel. Sources are linked at the end. 
> 
> I wrote this entirely while listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6F77kJFFks I would recommend it, but it might be very...disorienting. 
> 
> Finally: While Star Wars thinks the hard part of redemption is death and taking that single solitary step - I don't play. We're on the griiiiind now ladies and gents~~~

Maul could not breathe.

He curled inward, feeling the awful beating of his heart pounding within him like he had run through his drills, but he had done nothing. He had done _nothing_. There was nothing to explain the sudden feeling of sweat breaking out along his skin, nothing to explain why he could not…

That child that stared up at him, her eyes so wide, the way she had asked to be his friend. The way she had clung to Plo…

Maul could not breathe.

His fingers tugged at his horns, his breath hitched, his lungs spasming and nothing, nothing, nothing.

_If she was so advanced, then what had_ he _been_?

He could not breathe.

Maul’s fingers slipped to his mouth, biting deep, tasting blood and he could not…

 _And still he had_ failed _?_

Maul’s mind was a starburst of pain, rippling out, consuming him and he wanted to scream but he had no air, he had no…

There was a pounding on the refresher door, Tiq’s voice was yelling, and Maul didn’t want to let him in.

He didn’t want him to see.

Was Maul dying?

Was he really so weak that this…this…?

_No wonder his Master had left him._

_His Master had hurt him for_ **nothing**.

Maul felt something within him shatter.

The door was broken open, the Force tearing it open, and then there was someone there.

Maul still could not breathe.

And Maul could not care. Maul did not even see who it was. Could not even register the voice, even as he heard the words as they washed over him.

“Lord Maul, you are having a panic attack…not dying. You are not…danger. Nothing…to hurt you. I need you to breathe…You can do it. I need you to remove your fingers… Hold your mouth closed. And just…breathe in…nose. And breathe out.”

Maul did nothing, could feel nothing, could taste nothing, not even the blood a corner of his mind knew was seeping into his mouth…

“Lord Maul is it okay if I touch you?”

Maul did not care. Maul could not care.

Maul could not move.

“I am going to remove your boots and put your feet on the floor. Grounding is important, and this is a good way to make you feel better.”

Maul said nothing even as he felt the tugging of someone pulling at his feet as though from miles away. There was an ache in his hips, an ache in his legs, but once again it was so distant. A part of Maul was afraid, Maul had never not been in control of his body…

But most of him did not care and he did not move.

“Your socks, too.”

The feeling of bare feet on tile, the alleviation of an ache as he was shifted, his feet pressed to the ground, and Maul let himself be moved.

Maul did not care.

“Just breathe.”

The hands were there at his mouth, pulling at his fingers, tugging them free of teeth and that salty warm slick increased.

Maul said nothing. Did nothing as fabric was tied around them to staunch the flow.

Maul did not care.

“Have you ever had this happen before?”

Maul said nothing and the energy to think about it was gone.

It did not matter.

“As I called it before, this is known as a panic attack, and it can be triggered by any number of things. You, my dear Darth Maul, have been under severe emotional and psychological pressure for…a _very_ long time now. This is not a weakness, Darth Maul.”

Had he blinked? He thought he wanted to blink.

Had Maul breathed yet?

Maul did not know.

“The fact that you have made it for so long when your path has been so dark…never forget that you are feeing something that you have not seen before. Your body needs to adjust to it, and sometimes there are quakes. Sometimes there are faults where what was rubs up against what is and your entire being shudders and seems to scream…these are the aftershocks. I want you to know that it is a terrible thing that this has been done to you, that you would be forced to go through this at all…but please listen to me – we will get you through them.”

Maul said nothing.

There was more happening to his hands, the hands he could not feel, even though he was vaguely aware they were pressed against his mouth. There was blood there, it tickled, cooling, and Maul…did not care.

The sound of the shower running – not sonics, running water – came afterwards, and Maul was idly aware of it.

He still did not know if he had blinked.

He still did not know if he was breathing.

“The water is cold, and it shocks your system into breathing normally. Now.”

There were arms wrapping around him, lifting him up and Maul listed, following the movements as they lifted him up, dragging him to the sound of water. The sudden cold shock as his head was pressed into it, the feeling of the water pouring down his back sending goosebumps up his spine.

Oh.

He was breathing.

Maul thought that was probably good.

Those hands were shifting him, moving him to sit on the lid of the toilet and Maul sat, unmoving.

“I’m sorry.”

Maul hated those words.

Hated.

Hated.

Hated.

And he still could not care.

_I’m…_

Maul blinked, feeling something touching his hands, a voice, another voice, here with him, not then, not there…

“Can you change for me? I have dry clothes, will you put them on?”

Maul heard them but They

Meant.

Nothing.

Maul did not care if he was wet. He did not care about the water that still dripped from him, the chill that was eating into his skin.

Maul did not care.

Maul said nothing.

“Maul if you do not then I will have to. Do you understand, you must get dry, it is not good for you to remain wet and cold like this, not as you are. You are likely to get sick.”

Maul did not care.

“Maul, please, I’m going to give you one more chance, and then I will have to change you. Are you alright with this?”

Maul said nothing.

Maul did not care.

“Okay. Okay. I’m going to remove your tunic.”

Maul let the hands straighten his arms out, let the hands maneuver him so they could get at the belt on his tunic, could undo it. The hands were careful, Maul could almost think of them as clinical. Impersonal.

**The truth is I accidentally broke your ribs. But if I had told Master Sidious the truth, he would have destroyed me… I did not want to prolong your pain.**

But Maul was pain and Maul was hurt.

But Maul did not care.

He knew this touch. He knew what it felt like, the careful touch that was so like every other touch he had been given. Impersonal and cold and distant.

Maul did not care about the hands that removed his tunic, the feeling of a towel rasping over his skin, catching on old scars and old wounds and agony and agony and agony.

“Your trousers are next if you do nothing, Maul, they are completely drenched…”

Maul did not care, and he did not move. Did not close his arms to protect his chest, did not move at all.

“Maul…I’m going to stand you up.”

Maul felt the hands touch his skin and the moment they paused, for just a moment skittering from the flesh on his shoulder and…

_These are some impressive scars you have here, verd’ika. Do you know how many people can say they ru’murcyur by a Storm? How many can say they lived?_

But they were just scars. They were just trails of pain across his body, so many, so many.

Maul had worn his scars with pride.

Had worn his scars as though they had meaning.

But what were they now? What were they now but empty marks of a wasted…?

The hands pulled him up, and Maul stood.

  
“I’m going to remove your trousers.”

And Maul did not care.

Maul did not listen to the voice as they continued to talk, did not pay attention to the hands as they removed his clothes and dried him off, when they moved him to replace his clothing and brought him from the refresher.

They lay him on his bed.

Maul laid there, letting the hands curl him up with his back to the wall.

He always slept like this.

Maul did not care.

Maul heard the voice talking again. Heard…heard…

Nothing.

Maul heard nothing.

And he did not care.

“…Your Master was wrong to do that to you. Your Master was wrong. Did he do that to you when you were a child? Those scars are so old, Lord Maul.”

And quiet…quiet quiet quiet…

“How could he do that to a _child_?”

**You should know by now, child…Sidious knows everything.**

Maul shuddered and closed his eyes. His Master knew everything. His Master knew

E V E R Y T H I N G

Everything that Maul was. Everything he would be. Everything everything everything

Everything

His Master…

Did not know about his horns.

Or maybe he did not care.

Maul did not care.

Maul could not care.

Maul said nothing.

Maul lay there staring at nothing and the passage of time meant nothing the timepiece meant nothing and there was nothing and he was nothing and there were voices and they said something and Maul did not care and could not care…

“…we could administer it intravenously.”

Maul did not care but he did care and there were hands on his wrist and on his arm and Maul was barely aware that he bared his teeth and hissed and pulled back hooking his hands into claws and letting the angry rattling growl that he had fought down fought down fought down for so much of his life rattle into being and the hands backed away the voices paused his body refusing even as

Maul

Did

Not

Care

“…We will not drug him. We will not…I know I can work him through this. The only other option is electroshock and I will not…”

Maul’s growl turned into a snarl turned into a spitting hiss and…

“It will not happen; we will not do that to you. It will be fine, Lord Maul. It will be fine. It will be fine.”

And Maul did not care.

“I am sorry, Lord Maul…”

_I’m sorry…_

Maul hated. He hated.

The voices were leaving, and Maul did not care, even as the one voice stayed.

“Lord Maul…I know you can hear me, can hear everyone that is here, and I know that right now things seem…irrelevant, but I assure you that it is not. It is not and while you might feel right now…as though everything is too much… I know you will get through this. I know you will because you are strong, and you are capable, and you have been through so much. You will break these chains that are upon you…”

Through passion he gained strength…

But Maul had no passion.

Maul did not care.

And that meant he had no strength.

And that meant there was no power.

No victory…

No breaking…

Maul thought he should care. But Maul could not care. 

“But the strength requires passion, doesn’t it?”

Far above.

“That must seem so out of reach right now…”

Far below.

“I’m sorry that it feels like you are something insignificant…something small…”

_I’m sorry ad’ika…_

We don’t know where we’ll fall

“That it probably feels as though nothing matters and you will not feel passion again…”

_You are strong and you are quick, and you are clever._

Far above.

“But I promise you, Maul: You will make it out of this. You will come out of this and you will find passion again, you will find strength, power, victory and the breaking of chains…”

_Good work, verd’ika. I should have known you’d be able to break those chains so quick._

Far below.

“But I do wish to give you the knowledge that there are other ways to strength, Maul. There are other ways to victory.”

_You don’t need to use your Force tricks all the time. What’s the point in strangling a victim from afar if you can’t see the breath leave them? If you cannot feel the blood on your hands and know that you are strong and know that you have won, then what is the point?_

What once was great is rendered small.

“And if you let us, we will show you power. We will show you great victory in ways you never believed possible. We will help you break your chains and free you… We have always wished to free you.”

_Why do you go back to him? Why do you go back when… Ignore me. Ignore me, verd’ika, I’m sorry. I’m just…drunk. I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight._

Maul was _small_.

He found a rasping terrible sound leaving him. Whining and rasping and shuddering and…and…

He thought it might have been laughter.

Maul did not care.

Maul had been rendered Small.

But had he ever been great to begin with?

Those hands were gentle, gentle, gentle as they pulled at his horns, and the rush of serotonin and the soft firmness of hands slowly running down the side of his face as the voice whispered,

“Shh, shh…hush, Lord Maul. It’s alright. I know that it must seem so distant. Like such a lie…but I promise I speak truth. I promise. I’m sorry it seems so unbelievable…”

_I’m sorry, ad’ika. I’m…_

Maul hated.

And he could not listen, and the laughter strangled and stifled within him, the hands left. The voice fell silent soon after, but Maul did not think it left.

Maul did not care. 

Time once again meant nothing, and he had laid there too long but he could not get up and he could not bring himself to care.

That voice came again, soft and it asked if he needed to use the refresher, asked and…Maul could not answer, but the voice seemed to know. It walked him through and a part of him wished to be angry, wished to hate, he had known what to do ever since he was a child and the only thing there was a hole in the ground for his waste but…

Maul.

Did.

Not.

Care.

Maul’s position was changed, his body sat on the ground and he did not know how much time had passed.

And the room blurred and he blurred and there were hands and a voice and they guided, they guided. And Maul knew nothing, and did not know what was happening, and Maul did not care… The world did not exist.

He ate. He slept. He went to the refresher. The guiding hands and the voice and that was all he knew.

And then he was brought back into the room and this time he was sat and there was another voice, another sound another one, smaller, small… The food smelled…bitter. Medicinal. Bitter bitter bitter.

Maul knew what this was. He knew what this was, but he did not care. Did not care that he had not passed the test and was forced to eat it again and again until… Until he figured it out.

He heard the voice talk about healing herbs, how it was supposed to help heal you, but Maul could not move, and he did not care. Maul heard as the little voice got angry. But Maul knew that the voice was truly afraid, that the anger hid its fear.

Maul knew fear.

Maul did not care.

“Eat! Eat the soup, eat it! Just pick up the spoon and eat it!”

Maul picked up the spoon.

Maul ate.

Maul felt nothing and cared about nothing.

But Maul knew an order when he heard one.

**_Tell me what you know about the Jedi._ ** ****

_Don’t trust the jetiise._

The sound of that voice hitching in a gasp meant nothing.

**_Breathe it in, my Apprentice. Breathe in the Ash of the Empire that came before. Let the Hate fill you._ ** ****

_All of that hate, all of that rage in you, verd’ika, it makes a powerful weapon. You’re going to use it, and you’re going to use it well._

It had been an order and it would be an order he would follow.

**_A punishment is a lesson, young Maul. Learn it well._ ** ****

_I know it hurts, verd’ika, but I promise the pain now is worth the lesson. You’ll remember to dodge the next time it happens, and what happens when you don’t. I know it hurts, verd’ika. Hold still – let me set it._

The tears that Maul could hear meant nothing, were nothing.

**_Do not flinch again._ ** ****

_Flinching shows weakness, and weakness can be taken advantage of, don’t do it._

The first lesson Maul had ever learned was the fact that tears meant nothing.

**** **_You must never talk about your powers to anyone else on Orsis. If you disobey this command, the consequences will be most dire._ **

**** _You’re a Force Wielder? You…it’s alright verd’ika. It’s alright. I won’t tell. I won’t tell. No one will know. I’ve got you. It’s alright._

Maul knew orders and so he would listen.

He just wanted the one crying to shut up.

But Maul did not care enough to say so. Maul just followed orders.

“I’m sorry!"

The voice cried. It cried and it cried…

 _I’m sorry, ad’ika. I’m sorry_ …

The time passed again with soft words from the voice interspersed by orders – change, sleep, use the refresher, eat, exercise – and Maul followed them. He knew his drills by heart. His body followed them without thinking. But then there were the times when Maul was given no orders. That was when the voice talked to him again.

Sometimes the voice talked about the Jedi. Sometimes the voice talked about the Sith. Sometimes the voice talked about his Master and Maul did not like that.

But Maul also did not care.

“It is not your fault, you know?”

Maul did not know whose fault it could be…

“Your Master did not prepare you for this. He did not give you the tools that you needed.”

 _Always remember_ _verd’ika, that there is a proper tool for every job, and if you don’t have it, you’re unlikely to be able to get it later, so get as many tools as you can._

“Your Master deliberately withheld so much from you. Things that there was no reason to withhold. Knowledge about your body…”

 _You have to know what you can do._ _I’m sorry_ _verd’ika that I can’t be more help in this. From what I can tell you’re a Nightbrother, and there’s just not enough information out there about you. You all keep to yourselves a lot. You’re literally the first one I’ve ever seen, so I can’t help. It’s a fuck, kid. You’re meant to be so much more._

“And always…knowledge about the Sith. Have you ever wondered, Lord Maul…if your Master was not afraid of _you_?”

 _I knew a guy who kept Reek on a chain the size of your little finger. Yeah, yours verd’ika, not mine. He was able to do so, because that Reek had grown up with a chain around him for so long, that he knew that he’d never be able to break it. Eventually…he stopped trying_.

Maul…had never understood that lesson. Had never understood the way that helmet had looked at him, the way he had felt so…bare beneath a stare that he could not even _see_.

But he had not been able to ask. His Master had come.

Maul heard no more of what he’d been trying to tell him. Maul heard no more of that voice.

But Maul could not get it out of his head.

Maul was loyal…

…

Maul loved…

…

His Master had raised him.

…

His Master had abandoned him.

His Master had thrown him away.

Maul had failed, but he had been _loyal_. Maul had cut out his own hearts before on Orsis, he would have been able to again if he had only asked. Why did he not ask?

Why was Maul thrown away?

Why would he have done so much hurt to him when these Jedi started out so weak…

Maul had been beaten. Maul had been beaten by a _Jedi_ , a Jedi that started out as a weak and toddling thing that asked too many questions and had no understanding of the world. 

If Maul had been beaten so easily…then what then was the point?

Was Maul not strong?

What was wrong with him?

Why had he been thrown away?

“You know it was not your fault you were beaten.”

And Maul listened.

“Lord Maul, I wish for you to understand something: you are _lightyears_ above what you should be. There are _Masters_ that will never attain your skill level in some things – but they have something that you do not.”

Maul listened.

“They have experience – and they have tempering.”

_If you don’t temper the vibroblade then it shatters at the first hard blow. It’s why you always have to make sure to temper the thing after you make it, verd’ika. There’s no use in a shuk’la besbe’trayc._

Was…was that it?

Maul had not been tempered; he had not been…he had not been _softened_?

Maul had been…sharpened. He had been honed and he had been hardened. He had withstood every single agony and every single thing that had broken his body…but when had his Master ever tempered him? When had he ever let him cool? When had he ever let him…

If Maul was truly meant to be a weapon…

Maul had stood there after pain upon pain upon pain, but…

But a single horn-lock had been enough to buckle him.

But those hands that hooked through his horns had been so nice.

But…

But…

Maul did not understand…and must that then be the cooling that he had never been given?

Must that then be the softness that Maul was missing? And Maul…was missing so much, did not understand so much.

Maul did not understand the voice that looked at him and told him that there was _good_ in this Galaxy.

Maul did not understand Plo… Maul did not understand the way he had always been so gentle, no matter what.

Maul did not understand the voice that called him Little Cousin…

And told him that their place was right there – between him and the thing that wanted to hurt him.

Why had Maul not been taught about these things? If they had the power to reach into his chest and _squeeze_ , why had he not been told?

Why had Maul not been taught about this? Why had he not…

And Maul…could feel it.

In his joints, in the clench of his jaw, in the slow rising of something in the pit of his belly…

Maul…

“I’m sorry, Lord Maul.”

_I’m sorry, ad’ika, I’m sorry I…_

“You deserved better.”

Maul was beginning…

“You deserved to be a child, to be given the skills, the knowledge to understand what is meant by a soft word and a soft touch, by gentle apologies and the understanding that you _can_ apologize, that it should not be begging. That you should be taken care of, that you should not be hurt. That you should not have to submit on your knees and _grovel_.”

Maul was beginning to get…

“Lord Maul…when all of this is over, when you find that you can care again, I wish for you to understand one thing – and that is that you do not need to apologize. You do not need to beg, and you do not need to feel as though you are weak. But you must understand…”

_You are strong, verd’ika. Never forget that, even when you think you’re licked you always come back out – and you always come back out meaner. You can go through so much and I want you to know something…_

“Your Master is not the one that has given this strength to you.”

 _You come by that on your own. There are kids out there in this Galaxy that would have buckled under what you have been put through,_ you _should have buckled. But you decided not to. I’m not gonna lie, verd’ika – sometimes I think with that will of yours you’d be able to survive being cut in half._

Maul was beginning to get…

Angry.

But it was not enough.

It was not enough just yet.

And Maul could not force it to ignite, could not force it to spark when he was so utterly trapped in voices and memories and things that he had pushed down and down and down and down, like so much of himself had been pushed down. At the will of his Master and his Master…

Maul was afraid.

Maul was so afraid, so afraid, so empty and so afraid.

His Master would see. He would know. If Maul took the hand that was on offer, if he followed them…

Maul had cut out his hearts before.

Maul would do it again.

He would do it again and again and again and again and he would stand at the end and he would…

The tiny voice had come back again. The small voice, the one that claimed kinship and understanding.

“I’m sorry…”

The small voice said, and there were no more tears.

Good.

“I should have…I know they say that…that it helped you. That this…helps you. But I…I shouldn’t have…I did not mean to order you.”

Maul followed orders. Maul followed orders to become strong.

**_You must become strong in every way._ **

“I wish…I wish that you were able to do something just because they asked…because I asked. But…but I understand why it… It’s so hard sometimes, isn’t it?”

…Maul did not feel very strong.

“Sometimes it’s like…they’ll say something and it’s in just that tone and…and it hurts, you know? Sometimes it hurts because the only thing I can think of… The only think I can think of is Watto, and it hurts, you know? I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to connect to that, but it’s so easy. Tiq says it’s because it’s what I know, that I shouldn’t…feel upset that sometimes it happens…”

**_You must learn to overcome pain._ **

But Maul was pain.

“I don’t want to upset you too much, Maul, so I think…I think I’m going to change the subject…just because I know that you can hear me, and I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you more than…”

The small voice trailed off.

“…Tiq explained what’s happening. How…how your mind basically retreated, that you’re thinking, and processing and you can understand everything and that… That you had been so hurt before that it was only a matter of time. He had hoped that it wouldn’t lead to _this_ , but…but he says that you’re doing so well. Did you know that your presence in the Force just vanished? You just _vanished_ , Maul, and none of the Jedi know how you did it. Isn’t that wild? You’ll…I want to know if you could teach me, but…they’re saying it might be a Sith trick. I don’t care, you’re hiding from the entire Council! How cool is that! You have to be really strong in the Force to do that, particularly with the Collar, though they think it’s probably connected to Teräs Käsi as well…”

**_Someday, you might become stronger than I._ ** ****

“I’d like to learn that, too, that sounds…it sounds neat, and they’re talking about how you might be one of the best in the Order… Though I guess that’s meant to kill Jedi isn’t it, so maybe that’s not a good idea…and probably not all that surprising that you’d know how to do it…ha.”

**_You’d like that, wouldn’t you?_ **

“Do you like to do anything other than fighting? I found out that I really like swimming…”

[I want to go for a swim.]

Maul flinched.

“There’s so much water here, it’s insane! At first…at first, I felt kind of bad, because…because to have so much, and they use it for so many things! Ther’s an entire room of fountains! And I thought it was just…just so wasteful. But it’s all recycled, isn’t that amazing? All the water is connected, and I think it’s…it’s beautiful. I wish I could show you…”

**_To be stronger than I?_ **

“It’s weird to think sometimes…that a slave boy from Tatooine could get all this… And I want to share with you…you deserve to see it, too.”

[I was a slave…]

Maul would not think about [her.]

Maul would not think about [ _her_.]

He could not, he could not, not even like this, and he knew there was a sound of distress and he thought…he thought it might be coming from him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, um…I…I’ll get Tiq, Tiq can help. Tiq is…Tiq is good.”

_I’m sorry, ad’ika. I’m sorry I wasn’t…_

The small voice left.

Maul could breathe.

Maul did not…

Maul was so tired. If Maul was so strong. And they all called him strong. They all called him…

**_You were just an infant, and yet the most powerful beings on Dathomir were afraid of you._ **

But if that was so…

Maul closed his eyes. He did not open them. He did not listen. He did not move until he was ordered to.

Maul drifted.

Maul was exhausted.

Maul followed orders.

Maul did nothing else.

Maul came to slowly at the feeling of fingers on his horns, gentle, gentle…

“We have to file them down again, Lord Maul. Can you hear me? Tiq said you seemed to have retreated deeper than usual, but I’m not comfortable just…”

Maul did not understand.

“It has to be done, though. I’m going to start with the back of your head again, alright?”

Maul said nothing, but he did feel the scrape of the file, the slow easing of the discomfort that he had not even noticed until it was removed slowly.

“I think sometimes about how isolating it must have been sometimes, growing up the way you did. But you were under the Rule of Two, weren’t you? In a way there was no one else that could be with you because you were driven to that isolation… Next horn.”

**_There are others who use the Force._ **

“I grew up in the Temple, surrounded by others. That you would be a practitioner in Secret, though, explains how well you are able to shield yourself in this manner. Though I personally believe there might be a level of innateness to it. You are a Nightbrother, after all, and your home planet is not…well…the idea that it would be a defense mechanism makes sense. Next horn.”

**_But they are not…_ **

“I would like to show you the whole of the Temple eventually. To let you in the gardens, to see the fountains that young Anakin has become so fond of. You deserve to be able to enjoy these things that you have been kept from… Next horn… I wonder sometimes that you even know what you have been stripped from, but I do not ever doubt your capacity to understand… Next horn… I know that you are very bright. I’ve heard of some of your other conversations, and while we still would like to get a full understanding of your intelligence, there is little doubt that you are very smart. I really do think you would like the Archives.”

**_Like…_ **

“…I did want to say thank you…”

 ** _Us_** …

“You might not understand why, and I can myself understand, but…the very first time you let me do this, you did not do anything to hurt me, or to fight. I was very proud of you then…”

**_Well done._ ** ****

**_I commend you._ **

“I still am, honestly. I could talk about strength…but I want to talk about something else. I want to talk about your kindness, about the way you handle those younger than yourself, and frankly…that impressed me. You might not believe me, or think that it matters, but Maul…for you to have been so good with Ahsoka, even if you did not understand, or thought that she was…”

_You do not hurt kids. Kids and those weaker than yourself. That is beneath you in every way and those who do…demagolka, the lot of them, disgusting and vile… You are better than that. You have ijaat, verd’ika. You wouldn’t hurt a child._

“I’m very proud of you.”

Maul felt the keratin as it was pulled away, felt his horns no longer hurt… How long had it been?

Maul did not care.

“I’m going to rub this oil on them. I’ve discovered that what is happening here is that you have a tendency to dry. It’s a common problem in younger Zabraks who are still growing and might continue to follow you, but this will help to keep the keratin stronger and keep it from itching. It’s going to be a bit cool, but it should warm up quickly…”

The sensation was strange but the answer of why it was happening…

_Another tool in your box, verd’ika._

That was worth knowing. That was good.

“There we go…I’m going to put it in the refresher. Every two days you need to apply it.”

It was an order.

Maul would follow it.

Maul was tired…

There were so many orders…

Sith and Jedi and ones given to him. Personal orders and had he not followed so many.

So many.

“But I’d like you to do it as a request. Just because it would be better for you. And frankly orders upset me.”

…

Maul did not understand.

Maul was tired.

Maul listened to the voice that continued talking to him and wondered again at the difference. 

And Maul…wanted.

Maul wanted to understand, and it was joining with that anger. Maul was beginning to want.

Maul was beginning to feel it in his hearts and in his throat.

**_Stronger than me…_ **

Maul would like that. Maul would like to be…

Maul would like to be free.

[My owners are dead… I killed them all.]

Maul was not a Slave. Maul was…

But Maul was…no longer an Apprentice.

And if Maul was no longer an Apprentice…then what was he? What could he be? What was left for him?

Maul was a Zabrak that did not know what it was to be a Zabrak. He did not know his own body; his toolbox was empty… Was he therefore even really a _Zabrak_? Was he able to call himself something he did not understand?

Maul was exhausted. He was exhausted and he just…

“I know it must seem like a lot sometimes, Lord Maul, but I promise you it is not insurmountable. I will help you. I’ll answer all of your questions, any of your questions. You will learn who you are.”

No, Little Cousin, our place is here…

Maul drifted.

Maul drifted.

Maul did not know what he was anymore. Maul did not know.

Toolbox. His Toolbox was filled with so many things but nothing he needed. There had been no tempering.

Maul had shattered.

Maul had lost.

Maul was…nothing. He did not have a culture, Maul had never gone to Dathomir, did not even believe the markings on his skin were reflective of what he was supposed to be.

How could they be? They were – as in all things – something he had won, something placed upon him by his Master.

His Master had _branded_ him.

His Master had marked him and named him and sent him to Orsis, and he had taught him the Force, he had taught him the ways of the Sith, had called him a Lord of the Sith, claimed him as his Apprentice and sent him to Naboo.

His Master had stripped all of this from him, and the only chances Maul had had to be anything else…to…

Maul remembered a helmet placed in his hands by a teacher that had taken his own off for the first time since Maul had known him. Maul had never seen that face before and was almost more fascinated by that then the helmet he was holding – the one with the horn-caps that were meant to go over his own, the visor the…the…

Maul had stared at the face of Meltch Krakko for the first time.

And seen him for the second and final time dead at his own hands, following the will of his Master. Maul had followed his orders and destroyed…

Maul had not _known_ what Meltch was trying to give him. Maul did not know why he had stared at him, why he hadn’t even raised a hand to fight, did not understand what he _said_.

[Maul did not know why _she_ had not fought either.]

Maul…Maul had not known.

But…but…

“Unfortunately, we did not have any black, but this can be changed, I am sure…”

“You will be taken care of.”

“A good question.”

“Speak, you can, delighted I am. And a good question, this is!”

“It is, after all, what _you_ would find safe. I would not wish to guide you, Lord, in choosing your own mind.”

“Your lightsaber is really cool.”

“It was a neglectful act for us to let it get this bad and I apologize on behalf of the Council and particularly myself. I should have known better.”

“I have never read a more beautiful tale.”

“That sort of love and selflessness is shown all over the Galaxy…”

“I wished to apologize.”

“I’ll be your friend! You can be my friend, Maul!”

“We just want to help you, please let us help you.”

**“No, Little Cousin…our place is protecting you.”**

_They_ …would know.

And hadn’t they offered again and again and again and… Free him, they kept saying. Free him. Let him make the choice. Stand in front of him and keep him…keep him safe.

(when they could not even save themselves)

**_Stronger than me._ **

But if he let himself… Maul had already decided that the pain that had been inflicted upon him had been for nothing.

Maul had already decided that he himself was nothing.

He was not Dathomirian. Not Zabrak. Not Sith.

He was a shuk’la besbe’trayc.

Maul had broken at the first hard swing. And now he was lying there shattered. 

How was he supposed to move from this? How was he supposed to walk? There was so much that had already been done for him and to him, how could he ever turn his back on any of them? Maul was…chained. Maul had been chained like that Reek and he did not know how to get out of it, he had been given so many opportunities, and he had either not known how to step out of it, or known that he could, or that he even should.

Maul did not know what Meltch had called him when Maul had stared at him, dripping the blood of his classmates, his teachers, [her].

Maul did not know why he said sorry.

Why he did not fight.

Maul was exhausted. He was exhausted at the idea of fighting. He was exhausted at the idea of standing up and moving, of breaking this chain he had no idea was even _there_ … Maul was meant to be Sith, but he had no passion.

Maul had nothing.

He drifted.

“Such fear you have…”

Maul…Maul was fear. Fear was meant to be his ally.

Fear bound him here.

“Such fear and such sorrow for one so young, for one so bound. A terrible terrible thing has been done to you in the name of _power_. Sacrificed you have been upon an altar of lies. A weapon created and discarded. More than a weapon you are. More than a weapon you can be.”

Maul…did not know how. Maul did not know how.

Maul did not know how to change, to be something else, to be…

Someone.

Not something. Not a weapon. Not a tool. Not something crafted and wielded and thrown away.

Maul…was afraid.

“He has spent so much time creating that fear in you. Has built it in you to the point where it is innate, where it is under every breath you take, waiting to rise up and catch you within its throes. But you do not have to be afraid.”

Was that it?

Was that the chain?

“It must be so frightening. I cannot imagine what it is like to suddenly find yourself with the option of making a choice. With being suddenly thrown away…but you are not as broken as you likely think. You are young. Your formative years have been taken and they have taken you and made you hard, and they have been cruel, but they are not the only things that make you.”

Maul knew fear. He had grown up with fear. He had learned fear and how to make it…

Fear was his ally.

“You can learn Lord Maul. You can learn and you can grow, and you can be, but I can understand why it must seem so difficult a thing. Force, Maul, you had a growth spurt while you were in _prison_. Your body decided it was safe within a prison. Surrounded by what was meant to be your _enemies_ … You did not grow with your Master. What does that tell you?”

Fear…fear was…

Fear was the ally his Master had given him. Fear was what he had latched onto, the desperate clinging of something that Maul had grown up with for so long…

“Your Master has lied to you. Your Master was so cruel to you. Tearing you apart with Sith Lightning…and what a terrible thing to do to a child…

( _Do you know how many people can say they ru’murcyur by a Storm?)_

What an awful ugly thing to do to someone so young, who relies on you for everything.( _That is beneath you in every way and those who do…demagolka, the lot of them, disgusting and vile… You are better than that. You have ijaat, verd’ika.)_

It is little wonder that you are filled with such fear it feels like you cannot move… But he lied. He lied. Your Master, even if he is alive, even if I did not shoot him down and he did not burn in atmosphere…your Master is not infallible. Your Master can be wrong. He was wrong about you. He was wrong to hurt you. He was wrong to throw you away when _he_ was the one that broke you.”

His Master…made him strong…

(His Master made him fear.)

“Never forget who trained you. Never forget the way he refused to temper you, to give you the softness you needed. And you _needed_ it, Lord Maul. You needed that softness because you were just a child, just a little boy. You needed to learn how to be soft because it can and has caused so much confusion. So much fear. So much hate. Think about how little you understand. You know so much, and I know you do, but you know so much less than you should – and your Master is the one that stole that from you.”

His Master made him strong he made him…brittle – Maul had shattered at the first hard blow.

Maul had shattered. 

Maul did not want to be shattered.

Maul did not want to be broken.

Maul was _angry_.

“You deserved so much more, and we…we cannot train you as a Sith. Not even necessarily because we wish to strip you of being a Sith, but because we do not know how. You will be taking a very large step away from what you know, but we still mean to give you access to the Holocrons. We still mean to give you a choice, to let _you_ choose…”

(Maul was afraid).

“And I know…that must sound so frightening as well, but I promise it is something that you can do. I promise that the act of choosing is…difficult at first. But it is worth all of the fear. It is worth all of the possible mistakes you can make. It is worth all of the agonies of indecision, because you are making them. You are _free_ to make them.”

Maul…was not free.

Maul wanted to be free.

Maul wanted to be free, he wanted to…he wanted to… Maul did not know. But he…but he could find out.

Maul could…

Maul could _Choose_.

Maul had never been able to choose.

“There are…so many things for you. The Galaxy is so big, and you have so many things to see and to experience in it, free of your Master’s influence, because even if he is alive, even if he does still live – ultimately your Master should fear you. Your Master should fear what he has created, because you have the tools to become something dangerous and something powerful and something great. You also have the tools to be kind, and this…cannot be ignored. You Darth Maul, have been very kind to the ones beneath you, even if you do not know what this is or what it means.”

_You do not hurt kids._

Maul…wanted to choose.

Maul wanted…to wake up.

Maul wanted to see.

“You have honor, Lord Maul,” Tiq said, looking directly into his eyes that he still could not blink. “And it is honor that your Master does not have. You are already…in so many ways, better than your Master will ever be.”

Maul…was _afraid_.

“I am sorry, Darth Maul…” and it was…

It was Plo.

( _I am sorry, ad’ika. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough_.)

“I am sorry ( _ad’ika_ ) that there’s all this pain inside of you,” Plo said softly. “All of this fear bottled up inside of you and I just…I wish I could take it away from you. But I think ultimately that would do too much damage to who you already are, and you will find that we are fond of that person.”

Maul…wanted…

“You deserve to be shown that there is more to life than being a weapon. You deserve to be able to be so much more and I’m sorry ( _I wasn’t enough_ ) that it has been kept away from you for so long, and I am sorry ( _ad’ika_ ) that you have been so utterly betrayed by the one that should have taken care of you, should have raised you properly. And it must be so frightening to reach out again when you have never known a kind touch, must have rarely known a kind word… ( **I did not want to prolong your pain.** **_The most powerful people on Dathomir were afraid of you._** _You have ijaat, verd’ika._ ) But I know that you can do it. I know that you are brave. I believe in you, Darth Maul.”

Maul wanted to know…

Maul wanted to know what enough was.

Maul wanted to know what he had missed.

Maul wanted to know what he was missing.

Maul wanted.

He wanted he wanted he wanted he wanted.

Maul **_burned_**.

“I believe in you perhaps more than you yourself do, and that is because I know what it is that I am seeing, and that is someone who has gone through so much and has so far refused to buckle. That is admirable. You are admirable. You are strong and though you don’t know it, Darth Maul, you are in possession of great power. You have the power to change, the power to choose, and it is a power your Master will likely never have. Your Master has committed…his choices are his own, and he has shown that he will continually make the wrong ones. The ones that lead to a boy chained by fear and lies…you can break them, Darth Maul. You are the only one that can make that decision. You are the only one who can take the step, can make the leap. And this, Lord Maul…is then your first choice. The first one is always the hardest, the scariest, but once you make that first one… The rest get easier and easier, and this is something that I promise you. You can do this.”

Maul…

Could not yet move.

Maul burned, he wanted it so badly it hurt, but that chain (that fear) still bound him so tightly.

And then…

They began to leave.

And Maul was slowly aware of the others. Was aware of Eeth and Yoda and Mace and Tiq still staring at him after his speech, and then standing as well…and Plo… Plo was there, was kneeling before him, was staring at him and he was…

Maul did not understand the way he was looking at him.

Plo stood then, turning to follow, and Maul…did not want him to go. Maul did not want him to go, he did not want him to leave, he…he…

Maul needed to move.

Maul needed to prove them right. Maul needed to prove his Master wrong, needed to show him that he had been wrong to throw him away, that Maul could be so much more.

Maul needed to

Break.

His.

Chain.

Maul could no longer fear.

Maul had to make Plo stop.

Maul had Passion, Maul had Strength, Maul had Power…

Maul would have Victory.

Maul still did not feel the Force within him, but it did not matter.

Maul would break his chains.

Maul…

Stood.

And

Took

A

Step

And

Another

And

Another

And

Another

And the Guards had seen they had watched, there was a slow and steady stiffening, the others beginning to turn but Maul did not care and he was close enough now and Maul just wanted Plo to stop, and did not know how, could not say how and his body…

Was still a weapon.

Maul fell against the Jedi, his arm coming up around his neck, a thumb threatening to stab into his exposed throat with his claw and his other hand snaking around to hold that mask that he had marked as a weakness so long ago, but Maul…

Did.

Not.

Pull.

Maul breathed.

Plo had stopped, the Jedi had turned, their eyes wide, their expressions so shocked and Maul breathed, and softly, in a voice that was so rough and so hoarse he did not recognize it,

“I am sorry,” he rasped, “I do not know what else to do.” He breathed, feeling Plo as he shook watching as those faces shifted, as they… “Please,” he said softly. “Please, I want…I want to understand. I want to know. I do not know how to…not hurt. I do not want…I do not want to hurt. Please help me stop hurting.”

And Plo, so softly, so gently reached up, and took the hands that held him there, and slowly removed them. Maul let go, letting Plo turn around to face him, letting him still hold his hands and Maul stared up at that face and he stared at him and…

“I can show you something else to do,” he said softly, “I can show you how not to hurt, if you will let me.”

Maul hesitated, and then slowly nodded. Maul felt as Plo slowly guided his hands back, slowly wrapped his arms around the Kel Dor’s frame, and then slowly…reached down and Plo wrapped his arms around him and then…

He squeezed.

And Maul felt that same electricity, that same jolting shock from the first time his horns had locked with Eeth, the feeling of his body crying out in joy at something he had missed and something he did not know… But Maul knew what this was.

This was a hug.

“Welcome back,” Plo breathed, “I _missed_ you.” and Maul shuddered, falling into his embrace and he wondered if this, then…is what was meant by enough.

Maul wanted to find out.

Maul thought he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> https://youtu.be/Phjh7X0Q6dA?t=3  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bJpYf7RTqE  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhk0pQ_cQTM  
> https://www.quora.com/What-is-it-like-to-have-catatonia?share=1  
> https://mysupportforums.org//schizophrenia-and-psychosis/329633-what-does-catatonia-feel-like.html  
> https://www.reddit.com/r/schizophrenia/comments/7k4gwm/do_any_of_you_have_catatonia_and_if_so_whats_it/  
> https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/oct/01/i-struggled-to-help-a-patient-with-catatonic-depression-but-the-tide-is-turning  
> https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/322199#symptoms  
> https://sites.psu.edu/catatonia/treating-catatonia/


	16. To Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orientation and a breath - take your time, the path is before you, but you do not have to run along it. Sometimes, it is enough just to take those first steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very much taking a breath. It's a brief respite, the bonfire before we go onto other things. These things are unlikely to be as heavy as last chapter, but let's be real guys, I think we all need this after last chapter. I sure as fuck did LOL! Anyway! I am here to once again introduce more OCs! And this time this comes with a: 
> 
> HEADCANON! On the Twi'lek species: They grow up fast, because Ryloth is a very dangerous world - but they get to a certain point and their metabolisms just slow way down and they live for a loooong time. it's why you don't usually see a lot of older Twi'leks, and they all seem so young for so long! They just live a long time lol. 
> 
> I am nonetheless adding one warning: Talks of slavery, but nothing...too specific. 
> 
> References: Awakenings by Oliver Sacks. It was STUPIDLY difficult to find examples of what it was like to wake up from this particular fugue with some of the commonalities to Maul. This book is specifically about soldiers coming out of what is called a sleeping sickness that showed up after the first world war and their reaction to a drug that they were testing, as well as some other reddit forums and some quiet talks towards the ends of some of the sources I linked last time. It is not the same, but it was some of the only accounts that I could find. This book is a bit hard to read but if you would like you can check it out. Either way I did my best to reflect this as well as I could. Thank you for being patient with me.

Plo did not want to let go.

It had been three months. Three months of almost complete and total shutdown. Of Orders and blank stares and no movement outside of what he was told. Maul smelled vaguely of sweat, his tunic covered in much the same – having last been ordered to go through a series of exercises before they had tried to talk to him again as Maul was always more aware after a session – but Plo could not care less.

The Council had been working together in rotation to talk to him, to try and get him to engage with Tiq’s involvement, the Rodian having been working near tirelessly to try and get Maul to wake, to come _back_. He was vaguely aware of Tiq wiping tears from his eyes, having sagged into Eeth, who was also looking like he was deliberately trying to hold back tears.

But Plo closed his eyes and just held onto Maul, feeling the rhythm of two hearts against his chest, the strength in those limbs – which had been such a relief, to know that Maul would follow…and Plo’s mind skittered away from the reality of those orders. He hated every single one of those orders, every single one that had fallen from their mouths, but they had been so _needed_ , and to know that Maul had been able to exercise, had been able to keep up something he had obviously worked so hard for… It was good.

It was good.

Maul held onto him like his life depended on it, and there was a part of Plo that thought Maul really might feel like it did, and when that presence that had been so missed, (so truly and dearly missed) slowly began to unfurl… Plo felt Maul’s signature, his _being_ slowly come back.

Maul no longer felt like _nothing_ , no longer felt as though he was empty space.

And Plo was glad he could give this to him.

Plo was also aware that Eeth and Tiq were not the only ones that were crying. He was mildly grateful that Maul could not feel the liquid that was very obviously dripping onto his shoulder due to the tunic he was wearing, and the fact that his horns meant he had to tilt his head away.

Plo was very much an emotional wreck right now, and he would meditate later, but for right now he was going to _enjoy_ this.

Maul was sagging against him, and Plo looked to Tiq, a brief burst of worry choking him at the feeling, for one moment worried that he was… Tiq wiped his eyes and flashed a few signs, ‘exhaustion likely, sleep good.’ And then, with another bubble of tears ‘ _safe_.’

Plo tilted his head very far back and did his best not to sob.

Plo shifted his grip so he was supporting Maul more, doing it slowly as Maul’s own grip slackened, as he leaned his head more and more into Plo’s shoulder, his horns poking safely over the top. And then…

Plo didn’t know what it was at first, broken and stilted, stuttering and starting and…

Eeth clapped his hand to his mouth suddenly, and was very obviously crying now, leaning against Tiq, who leaned against him, and then the Zabrak put a hand carefully to that spot beneath the hollow of his throat, against the organ that…

Plo was going to weep.

Plo was going to weep it was too late for him, it was too late.

Maul was…

It was…

Maul was purring.

Worn and broken and weak as it was, Maul was _purring_.

His Master hadn’t taken that from him.

And Plo was going to weep as soon as he got a free moment…

But for right now, Plo held him carefully, letting Maul slump against him more and more, feeling that presence dip, the breath against his shoulder slow and deepen. Finally, Maul slumped fully against him, his grip falling lax, and his head pressing deeper into his shoulder as he finally fell into _sleep_.

Plo closed his eyes, holding back the tears, because this was _true_ sleep, _healing_ sleep, none of that terrible awful half-sleep that Maul had been doing before that was so terrible to see, so empty and so hollow. Plo lifted him easily, with Force and his own strength, curling Maul against his chest and taking him to the bunk that… There was a part of Plo that did not want to put Maul back in that bunk. Maul had lain there so still and so utterly empty for so long…

But Maul did not feel empty.

Maul felt as though he was there, was _with_ them, was _living_ , and as Tiq pulled the blanket back, Plo was comfortable and happy with lowering Maul into it, curling him gently into his favored position, and watching as Maul did something he never had while Maul was trapped in his own mind.

Maul snuggled back, pressing his back closer against the wall, and while a part of Plo was a bit shattered to see it (Maul was even now working to protect himself), the rest of him was so relieved he nearly sank to the ground.

Maul was still with them.

Tiq carefully pulled the blanket back up so it was under Maul’s chin, watching as Maul huffed and slowly worked on squirming so he was buried beneath it, his horns the only thing poking out.

Plo was going to have a heart attack and die. But for right now… For right now, Plo just wanted to take a moment to breathe, to recognize that Maul was back _with_ them and not locked away deep inside his own mind.

Maul had asked for help.

Maul had come back to them.

Maul had made a _choice_.

Maul had taken that first terrifying step into the unknown and…

And had trusted Plo to catch him.

Plo’s hands slowly flexed, remembering what it was to hold that form, to _catch_ him, and swore to continue catching him for as long as he could, as long as he needed.

Plo backed away slowly, looking to Tiq, who wiped his eyes and nodded, backing away himself and turning to look to Mace and Yoda, who were wiping their own eyes. Tiq signed that it was okay for them to leave and they exited, finding the Guards adjusting their masks, straightening suddenly, and looking straight ahead. Plo hid the smile that wanted to crinkle at his still watering eyes.

The Council had not been the only ones that worried.

They slowly left, the transparisteel closing, and Tiq took several deep breaths, before reaching out, carefully putting hands on each of them, “ _Thank you_. Thank you very much for being there with me. Thank you for helping.”

Plo took one of those hands, feeling the slight tremble and squeezing.

“Thank _you_ , Healer,” he said, “very much.”

“Without your guidance we would not have known what to do,” Eeth agreed.

“Trapped, Maul would be,” Yoda shook his head. “Grateful we are for your hard work and perseverance.”

“If you would like a vacation you can have it,” Mace finished.

There was a round of agreement, the Guards included, and Tiq laughed.

“Absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head. “This is just the first…it’s the first steps and these are…these are absolutely the most crucial. And besides, to know… I am just so glad he is _here_.” Tiq took a breath, his hands coming up to his large, closed eyes. “We need to…we need to decide some things before we walk him through this,” he said finally, looking up at them all. “He will be asleep for a while yet. Such a thing is _exhausting_ , and to have lasted so long…I don’t doubt that Maul will sleep for a day. I would not be surprised if he sleeps for _two_ , frankly, his body needs it.”

“Should…” one of the Guards spoke then and they immediately turned to her. “Beg your pardon,” she said with a bow, “I merely…I wondered if we should wake him to check if he is truly _aware_. He sleeps very _still_ , Masters.”

Tiq smiled at her, the look warm. “I assure you; you will be able to _feel_ if he winks out. There _is_ a possibility of this, but I do not doubt that it will be much easier to bring him back. Maul _wants_ to come back, and that is enough.” Tiq’s smile turned into a grin and he sent a brief glance towards that body still hiding beneath the covers before turning back to the Guards. “Please do not wake him until he is ready, and he wakes up on his own. It will give his body and mind more time to process.” Tiq’s smile slowly shifted and turned into a frown. “And now…I believe we need to discuss something else. We need to discuss that collar.”

There was a pause, the Council Members looking at each other before back to Tiq.

“Frankly, I would have liked to have taken it off during his fugue, but the fact remains that if he had come out of it violently or had been startled, I do fear he would have reacted…poorly. He could have hurt himself and others severely if he still had access to the Force, so it was a necessary evil. But now that Maul has directly asked for help, now that he has come to _us_ … We need to begin showing him trust. I would like to remove the collar permanently but… There are other factors to consider. I’m sure you know what they are.” Tiq frowned heavily at all of them, making direct eye contact with those large eyes that saw too much. “Either way, I submit that we remove that dreadful thing when he is within his cell. I also recommend getting him out of the cell and into a training room or the gardens or _somewhere_. His mind needs the extra stimulation, and it would be good for him. More than good, at this point it is _necessary_ , and we need to make a schedule of it. We need to get him out, we need to get him used to things, and _us_ used to _him_.”

“Agreed,” Plo said, his rebreather making the sound heavy. “I believe he can be trusted to not cause harm to any of us, and I believe it would be so much healthier for him to be in connection with the Force, to be able to Meditate when he needs, to be able to have that part of himself back.” But even so, there was a concern. Plo took a breath, “do you trust that you will be safe?” he asked, turning to look to the Guards.

The Guards who had lost so many of their number. The Guards who had lost two at Maul’s hands, and so many more at his Master’s.

The Guards immediately saluted in a way that spoke of long discussion with themselves and the others amongst them. They would not have made the movement otherwise, would not have given their blessing.

Plo felt his heart warm. He took a breath, looking to the other Members of the Council.

“I’d take it off now if I wasn’t afraid it would wake him,” Eeth said without pause once they knew the Guards were with them, his gaze hard.

“Agreed I am, with this plan of action,” Yoda said with a firm nod. “To meditate he should be allowed, known to us, his signature should be. Freedoms we must begin to give.”

Mace inclined his head. “I, too, agree with this plan. Do you have a recommendation for where we should give him access to first?”

“…Maul would probably love a chance to get in one of our training rooms,” Eeth said with a raised eyebrow.

Tiq beamed, and immediately nodded, “Agreed. He had a growth spurt before his mind was cut into, and he hasn’t had an opportunity to really get _used_ to his new height, not properly at least. I do not think he was actively moving much after it happened.”

“He was not,” the other Guard said, her voice firm. There was something loaded in that statement, and Plo had to guess another bet. He hid his smile, though it slid. To go through so much in such a short period…

It was alright.

Maul would be alright.

They were walking.

One foot in front of the other.

They were walking.

* * *

Anakin felt the presence slowly unfurling in the back of his mind while he was in the middle of meditation with Teacher Qui-Gon. For just one moment he did not know what it was, and then his eyes snapped open.

Maul.

Maul was back. 

Maul was here, he was present, he _was_!

Anakin bolted upright, nearly vibrating with delight.

It had been three months. Three months where Anakin had worked so hard on occupying himself, on keeping himself from thinking about that still figure in the prison cell who didn’t react to anything, who could be pushed into a specific position and didn’t care enough to move out of it, even when it had to _hurt_.

Three months where Maul had taken _Orders_.

Anakin had been devastated at the sight of Maul eating the soup after he had…after he had ordered him. After Anakin had let his temper get the best of him and yelled at… The soup was not something that people were meant to be ordered to take. The soup was meant to be eaten of their own free will, and Anakin had not care, he had not cared, he had gotten so angry and he had yelled…

It had scared him. It had scared him, and it had _hurt_ , and he found himself going to Qui-Gon to talk about the anger that coiled in his chest like a krayt dragon and threatened to erupt all the time, the anger he could not shove down deep enough. That was also when Qui-Gon began realizing how… _difficult_ so much of the Jedi philosophy was and that Anakin wasn’t so much letting go of his emotions as he was suppressing them. It had…it had been a very hard conversation, but Anakin was feeling so much lighter, so much more…relieved now that it had taken place. Now that he could move.

There was a disconnect that they hadn’t realized was there until Anakin had spoken and now that they knew…it was…it was beginning to make sense. Anakin was slowly able to let that anger go, going to frequent therapy sessions with a temporary Mind Healer named Soon, who was Tiq’s second and a Nautolan female who smiled freely and laughed quicker than anyone he knew. Anakin liked her a lot and she had been a big help. He did miss Tiq a bit, but Soon had been very helpful, and he knew that Tiq had to work with someone much more difficult.

Either way, as he practically vibrated his way out of his skin, Anakin found that the past three months were beginning to wash away, instead surrounded with bright warm delight, because:

“Maul’s _awake_!” Anakin cried out, “he’s _here_! He’s here, Teacher, he’s here! He’s alive! He’s here!”

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and smiled, watching him in that serene but warm way of his that Anakin was slowly beginning to understand. Obi-Wan had been right when he said that training with Qui-Gon was sometimes a bit strange, but Anakin _liked_ it.

He also really wanted to go to Maul.

“Can we see him? Can we…please, please! I know that we have to meditate, and I will, but…”

“Hold on, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said softly, and Anakin settled. “Feel again, what does that signature feel like it’s doing…”

Anakin closed his eyes and reached out again, feeling as that signature dimmed slowly, gently, and then settled at a… “He’s _sleeping_ ,” Anakin said, opening his eyes and blinking in slight surprise. He hadn’t expected that. He had thought that once Maul would be up, he would be up. Maul seemed to operate on that level most of the time, an almost fever-pitched intensity that drove him through most of his actions.

“I spoke to Healer Tiq about what was likely to happen when Maul came out of his fugue,” Qui-Gon said, “apparently the body in that state cannot properly rest, and Maul has been in a sort of…half-awake state this entire time, where even sleep was not true sleep. His body and mind are both exhausted and he needs that rest in order to begin to heal. It may last two days, it may be more, it may be less, it is up to Maul.”

Anakin took this in for a moment before giving out a soft sigh, feeling that slow rising melancholia come up to meet him.

“Come here, please? Qui-Gon requested softly, his hand outstretched, and Anakin walked forward, taking it. “Maul will be fine. He has gone through so much, you, yourself understand this, but he has finally come out of it. We will be able to talk to him, soon.”

Anakin smiled, a slow thing that broadened, and Qui-Gon smiled back.

There was a knock on the door then, Qui-Gon calling for it to open and Obi-Wan stuck his head in, his eyes wide, “Did you feel that?”

“Maul’s awake, Obi-Wan!” Anakin cried out and ran over to the other Jedi, who laughed aloud at his enthusiasm, but Anakin couldn’t care, not yet, and he could tell that they didn’t either.

“Of course, he is,” Obi-Wan agreed, grabbing his hands as he offered them. “I did tell you he would awaken, and you know why?”

“Because he’s too stubborn,” Anakin beamed, “and Healer Tiq’s too good at his job, and we all worked _really_ hard with him…” Anakin took a breath, “And most importantly because Maul decided to.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan smiled at him, “he did. We’ll have to congratulate him when we see him. In two days, do you think?”

“We probably should not crowd him all at once,” Qui-Gon cautioned. “That was the other thing that Tiq suggested. But as soon as Tiq says that Maul is able to have visitors, we will absolutely be there.”

Anakin beamed, took a breath, and slowly let it out, practicing in the way Healer Soon had recommended. It was one of the things that were going to help prepare him to let out those twisting emotions within him, that got him familiar with the motion.

As it was, it was another thing that he was working on, as well as learning how to properly verbally spar with the other Jedi Padawans.

Anakin had struggled with it from the beginning, and now that he had been chosen as a Padawan and was getting deeper and deeper into his studies, he had found that the other Padawans had a tendency to be… Healer Soon called them jealous, Healer Tiq had called them stupid and said that they’d grow out of it. But the knowledge that Anakin had been a slave had spread and…and this was probably half of the reason for his anger, but…

Anakin had also managed to gain friends.

The ones that worked with him in the kitchens, and a lot of them were carnivores that were bigger than he was – Togrutas and Zabraks and Nosaurians and more. They had befriended Anakin, laughing at the small omnivore human that didn’t have the proper teeth to eat half of the stuff he helped cook, and certainly couldn’t eat the things that weren’t, but wanted to help anyway. That had been the start of their slow and steady warm up to him.

The knowledge that Anakin was bad at cooking was another.

Anakin wasn’t really… _bad_ , he thought, he just had a tendency to get distracted. And he had burned one or two items…several times…in a single session. But it wasn’t his fault, _really_. There was so much going on and it was all so interesting. They laughed and they accepted that, and it had…made them warm to him. Anakin remembered Soon’s talk of jealousy and thought that the idea that they were able to see that Anakin was not _all_ perfect was something they had needed.

Anakin was glad, even if he thought it was stupid.

And one of the Zabraks, a sharp-tongued girl named Til Soo had probably saved Anakin from breaking his knuckles on an older boy’s face.

Anakin still thought back to it with a kind of dizzying relief. They’d been working on lightsaber drills, and Anakin had been training so hard, and had gotten so good at letting the Force guide his movements… Anakin was a _natural_ , and he knew it, and all of his classmates knew it.

It wasn’t fair.

Anakin still didn’t even know their names. All he knew is in one moment he had demonstrated a complicated maneuver that had taken his other classmates months to perfect… And the next moment one of the older boys had turned and hissed to his friend, “He may be good with a lightsaber but that doesn’t mean he’d make a good Jedi.”

“No,” his friend had agreed, laughing, “after all, he’s just a _slave_ to his emotions, it’s obvious.”

“Just a slave…” the first boy had agreed, and Anakin had seen red.

In that moment he had wanted to turn, wanted to throw that training saber away and beat them both black and blue, and then Til, her voice sweet as honey and sharp as a vibroblade quietly hissed,

“And you both are Slaves to your _Jealousy_.”

Anakin’s heart had leapt.

“If either of you ever _hope_ to be good Jedi, you should look at how you treat the people around you and the things you say. Is this really how you treat people when they get out of a terrible situation are able to thrive – with jealousy and pettiness? And you want to call yourselves _Jedi_.”

Til had stopped her soft hissing, her gaze sharp and pointed, and the two boys had backed down, both of them flushing and looking away from her gaze. They did not apologize to Anakin, but he almost didn’t care in the rush of gratitude to Til. Til had just winked at him, and slowly began his quiet lessons on how to properly verbally repost a Jedi.

It was…enlightening, and frankly a lot of fun, and gave Anakin a better defense than he had before. It was…good.

Anakin was happy.

Anakin had friends, was learning so much more in a way that made sense, and Maul was awake.

It was forward motion. Anakin was walking.

One step at a time, Anakin was walking.

He had chosen a path and he was going to stick to it.

* * *

As much as Tiq wanted to say that he didn’t need a vacation and everything was okay, he asked the guards to alert him to when Maul woke up, made sure that the Council was in complete agreement with his proposed plan to remove the collar, and then went into his quarters and slept for an entire day.

The next day he found Healer Soon, his Nautolan colleague, sitting down before him with a cup of tea and an expectant look, handing one off to Tiq.

“Heard you had a breakthrough,” she grinned, and Tiq laughed.

“He did,” Tiq agreed. “I’m so excited, Soon,” he said, rubbing his face. “I slept for a day, it’s been utterly exhausting, but I’m excited.”

“Want to talk about it?” Soon asked, grinning, and Tiq laughed, before doing just that.

When he had poured everything out, he took a deep breath and took a sip of now cold tea.

“I’m worried,” he said finally, his voice soft. “It’s going to be a hard road, and it’s one that he’s moving down, but…well. There’s a lot of groundwork that we have to work on. We stripped his entire foundation, and we have to help him build anew. I think he can do it. I believe he must have clung to _something_ , but…”

“It’s a lot of work,” Soon agreed. “But,” she smiled, “the good thing is we can _do_ the work. The good thing is that he has asked us to help him. He wants to learn how to do something other than hurt.”

Tiq beamed at her and took her hand, squeezing. “Thank you, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am,” Soon answered smugly, her tendrils wiggling in amusement, and Tiq laughed.

“Onto other things then, did you wish to talk about Anakin?”

“He’s doing wonderfully!” Soon beamed. “It took a while, but you know how we learned he was internalizing instead of releasing?”

“I do,” Tiq agreed.

“We are now working on helping him learn what we mean by _release_ , because he just wasn’t understanding the concept. It’s a slower process, of course, but he’s already doing so much better.”

“That’s _delightful_ ,” Tiq sighed, “has he made any friends?”

“You’ll have to talk to him yourself,” Soon laughed, “I’m not telling.”

Tiq put a hand to his chest and groaned as though he had been mortally wounded and Soon laughed aloud.

“Stop being dramatic,” she scolded, swatting his knee. “How are _you_ feeling?”

Tiq took a breath and sighed. “Much better,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Soon smiled. “I’m doing well as well, thank you for asking~” The smile turned blinding and Tiq laughed aloud.

They had a path.

It was time to walk along it.

* * *

Alema Rol had been a Guard for a long time.

Before that she had been the trainer of three Padawans, two girls and a boy, all of whom had grown up to be strong and powerful with the Force, all of whom she had loved dearly.

Alema had lived for a long time…had seen much and done much but staying detached from the young man that had been in the cell behind her was potentially the hardest and the only one she was willing – and frankly at this point _happy_ \- to fail. Attachments when one stood as a Guard were generally more forbidden than they were among the rest – as they had to be willing to save their people even from themselves – and so there was always that distance, there was always the knowledge that Maul was a killer that would destroy and had destroyed… But to view him wholly without compassion, without the burning need to teach…this… _this_ was frankly beyond even her.

Alema did not know how they were meant to remain impartial to the one they held in their walls, not when he was so demonstrative of not only a pain that had plagued her own people for generations, and certainly not when he was trying so hard.

Alema had been there when Maul had finally reached out, when he had brought his hands up in the only way that he knew how, grabbing hold of Plo with no intention of violence, but completely unable to think of another method of stopping him. Completely unable to think of another method outside of death and pain, the only two constants that the young life in the cell behind her had ever known.

Alema had listened to that broken stilted purr and had been unable to stop the tears from rising, going directly to her current pair Liana Mun after her shift and pouring the entire thing out, watching as Liana wept as well.

Liana was like her in that she had _also_ been around – pushing seventy and having raised two Padawans to adulthood and to life, a boy and a girl. Her human lifespan was much less than her own Twi’lek one, but it was nonetheless full of much the same as hers. And she had also been trapped in the pull of rooting for the slave in their midst – the slave that was finally taking steps to be _free_.

Alema was _proud_. More than proud, she was _relieved_ , and she rejoiced in those steps often, both alone and with the woman beside her.

Slavery was one of the most disgusting blights upon the Galaxy, and one that had torn up her own planet for long enough, and…torn up Maul’s own. A Night _brother_ , a born slave, and there was a disgusting irony in that, in the idea of escaping one form of slavery and winding up in another… It was not an unexpected plight for the offshoot of the Zabrak species, as she knew that the members of that race were often considered as, or perhaps even more exotic than the Twi’lek females, and perhaps for obvious reasons given their rarity.

And the fact that if Maul was a common example of his race, she understood where they would get their appeal, able to appraise it with the critical and ultimately impersonal eye that she could look at her own people with.

And if there was one thing that Alema thought that she could hate – it was the slavery that bound them both. 

But Alema was a Jedi and so she did not hate, and instead focused upon the path that they hd suddenly found themselves standing before – the one that would lead to _life_. The one that may end with a Sith in their midst, reformed, renounced, or perhaps even redeemed, ultimately Maul was going to be free, and potentially even amongst them.

And maybe, and Alema didn’t dwell on this much because it seemed like too much of a dream, but there was the possibility that Maul would let _them_ train him. Would attempt to stand as a Padawan of _their_ Order.

But for now, she would wait, and she would watch, every so often sending glances at the still form lying upon that bed where he had been for close to two days now.

It was during one of these glances that the quiet bonds of sleep slowly began releasing him, and she found her gaze slitting towards Liana’s, knowing without seeing that she was meeting her own.

Maul was waking up.

Maul shifted, stretching out underneath the covers, moving from his curled-up position with his back against the wall and slowly rolled out of the bed to land in a pushup position.

It was such a normal, completely ordinary sight that Alema felt tears welling in her eyes.

“ _Three minutes_ ,” Liana’s voice rang through her mask, and Alema laughed aloud, the sound warm and bright and utterly relieved.

It also made her open her comm, immediately calling Tiq.

“Maul is awake,” she said, answering a question he already knew the answer to. “Would you recommend giving him a moment to orient himself, or should we call Plo here now as well as yourself?”

“ _He is moving to orient himself_?” Tiq asked.

“He’s doing pushups.”

Tiq laughed, the sound relieved and as delighted as she herself felt. “ _I am_ glad _. Allow him his exercise, and to get a shower, Plo and I will arrive with breakfast in…how long would you say_?”

Alema side-eyed Liana, “ _Four_ minutes for pushups, and he’s likely going to run through a bit of a routine to wake his body up…perhaps…should I advise him to feel free to take a long shower?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tiq agreed. “ _I think that that is a wise decision. He may not think to do it himself, and it is good to let him know that he can_.”

“Thank you, Tiq, then perhaps…forty minutes in order to give him time to stretch afterwards.”

“ _I agree with that. If he is ready before then simply let us know, or indeed, if he takes longer, we will bring breakfast either way_.”

“Very good, Healer,” Alema said.

“ _We’re both going to be wrong_ ,” Liana said as soon as she hung up, laughter in the sound. “ _I want to revise mine to six_.”

“Cheating,” Alema said, sniffing, and Liana laughed aloud.

They watched as Maul worked his way through pushups, before rolling onto his back to do sit-ups, adding in the usual one-two punch that he always threw in.

“My bet,” Alema beamed and Liana huffed.

“ _Quiet, you_ ,” she hissed, and Alema laughed this time, before with a hum,

“Five minutes.”

“ _Seven_!”

“You think?” Alema challenged, “you don’t want to revise it this time?”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Liana retorted and Alema beamed.

Maul made it for ten.

“ _Think he noticed something he didn’t like? That’s a bit longer than usual_ …”

“He hasn’t been…in control…” Alema said softly and heard Liana’s soft sigh, one that she concurred with. “It’s possible he’s working on accounting for a loss. I don’t think he was able to spend a lot of time on his core…”

“ _If you’re right he should roll into a_ …”

“Plank.”

“ _There it is_.”

“Seven.”

“ _No bet_.”

Maul went for seven before shifting into position for squats, which lasted five minutes, before he fell into a rough stretching sequence, and finally turned his attention towards the refresher, but before he could, Alema placed the water bottle they had for him in the slot, pressing the button that allowed Maul to get at it, and he turned his attention to it immediately, before looking to her and giving her a brief nod in thanks and walking over to take it.

Alema was unsurprised when he drank it down as quickly as he could without getting sick, knowing that he must be both thirsty and likely starving, but they would bring him food soon.

“Lord Maul,” Liana called, and Maul blinked, before turning to look at her directly. “You are able to take as long of a shower as you want. There is no water rationing here.”

Maul took that in for a moment, his gaze shifting to the refresher, before back to her. “Thank you,” he finally said, and that voice, while still a bit rough, was getting back to its usual measured cadence. It was good to hear, and both women nodded, before Maul turned back, collecting some clothes from his chest, and moving to retreat to the erefresher. He paused in the threshold for a moment, staring into it, and then turned back to them. “Do you know,” he started softly, “when last I oiled my horns?”

“I will find out,” Alema said, immediately asking to see who had been on duty the last time he had. She gave a nod at the answer, “you may oil them today, Lord Maul.”

“Thank you,” he said again, and finally slipped into the refresher.

This then…was something of a relief as much as it was a stark reminder that Maul truly _hadn’t_ been unaware. He had been there, had heard and likely felt everything, but he had been…completely unable to operate, and it brought a vibroblade of pain to her heart. Liana grasped her forearm, squeezing, and Alema shifted her hand to grip her own, before they finally let go.

Maul was here now, was aware and working through his own routine and using his own methods.

It was…good. It was good.

They were walking.

They were taking their first steps into freedom.

Alema loved to see it, and she gave a look to Liana, before drawing the smile across her mask, one that Liana returned on her own.

* * *

Maul awoke with a choked-down gasp, his mind flaring bright as he felt himself come to consciousness with the feeling of a punch to the gut.

For just a moment he was aware of everything, _everything_ , in a way he felt he never had been. The beating of his hearts, the feeling of his lungs expanding and contracting…Maul thought he could feel the rush of blood in his veins. His body tingled with the rough fabric of his tunic, the softness of the blanket over his head, and the hard pressof the wall to his back. He took one breath and then another, letting them out slow, the acrid smell of his own sweat in his nose, the feeling of tackiness on his skin from much the same.

Maul took all of this in, letting it envelope him, and _relished_ in it, even as it threatened to overwhelm him with just how much there actually was to _know_.

Maul had forgotten it. 

Maul felt a bit as though he had been underwater for the longest time and had finally made it to the surface.

Maul felt as though he could finally _breathe_.

For just a moment Maul allowed himself to breathe, and then he stretched himself out slowly, feeling the muscles in his limbs, the stretch and the pull and the shift, and rolled out of bed, allowing his reflexes do the work even as his mind tried to keep up.

His body knew what to do, and Maul would let it, letting himself work his way through a modified version of his usual exercises while his mind began orienting himself within his body.

Maul thought it would be easier with the Force, but that was not an option, and so for right now he would work his way through it.

Maul ran through a series of pushups, breathing slow, feeling it come in, feeling it go out, and he could hear…rustling, movement, the step of the guards that he knew were outside of his cell, the pounding of the blood in his ears. Maul could feel the coolness of the tile floor beneath his hands (he idly wondered where his gloves were), the flex, the pull, the push. Maul burned and it was _good_.

It was good.

Maul was awake.

Maul was no longer trapped in the orders and the fog.

Maul _wanted_.

Maul relished in the idea for a moment, letting himself work through the pushups before rolling to his back.

He closed his eyes initially against the burn of the lights above, but soon opened them again, forcing himself to get used to the light and the feeling, following the routine of one-two punch on every completion.

Maul also became aware of a…lack.

He did not feel quite as stable in his core, and Maul resolved to do more than his usual set. He would build that back up. Maul would remove that lack.

Maul also slowly began allowing himself to process, to think of what had happened and what he remembered.

In a lot of ways, it was like looking back on a fog. He was aware of…words, of thoughts, of a past and a present that had intertwined and…

Maul had not thought of Meltch Krakko in so long. Had not thought of…

Maul moved into a plank position, feeling the burn of his muscles, the rough burn at his core.

Maul thought of the Reek on a chain and thought of the chain around himself that he had _broken_ and wondered…

Maul felt that same emptiness, that same idle ache in his chest at the thought of his al’verde that he had with that Guard, the one that had…

Little Cousin.

Maul remembered the one who called him Little Cousin, and his chest panged with that emptiness, that awful lack. The feeling with Meltch was stronger, an ache full of familiarity and the slow awful realization.

Meltch had been trying to help him. Meltch had…had taught him, had blended his words with his Master, but… Only now was Maul realizing just how different Meltch had truly been, how even among the calls of “K’atini!” and the hands that were often so brutal…

Meltch…

Maul did not understand the feelings within him. Did not know how to explain what it meant to him, other than the thought of Plo and those arms that wrapped around him…

Maul wondered if he could ask. Either way he thought it was only fair to warn them. The Jedi were not the first to try and take him from his Master, not the first to try and offer him cin vhetin… And Maul had not known how to take that then. Maul had followed the orders of his Master, and…

Maul had killed what he had not understood.

Maul had followed Orders.

Maul had acted due to the chain that held him.

Maul moved to squats.

He didn’t know how long it had been. Did not know how long the water had been over his head, how long he had been unable to truly breathe.

He remembered voices and…Tiq. Tiq had always been there, all the time, from the initial break to… When Maul had come out of it.

Maul also thought of Plo.

Maul also thought of that warmth, that…that hug.

Maul closed his eyes, worked his way through his set until his muscles were trembling, until he felt the good sort of exhausted, and fell into a rough series of stretches that would keep him from cramping, but would be supplemented later.

Maul wanted to shower. He wanted to be clean.

The sound of a slot opening drew his attention back to the Guards, and he realized that there was a bottle of water within, and he immediately went to take it. He had not realized how thirsty he was until he took the first sip and he had to work very hard at keeping himself from downing the entire thing too quickly.

Maul was all too familiar with the way his body reacted when it had been without for so long.

Maul finally downed it all, breathing deep and looking back to the refresher, and then suddenly, softly:

“Lord Maul,” one of the Guards said, and Maul turned, looking to the voice with surprise.

Maul had not been aware that they would answer him, had not been aware they could talk to him.

“You are able to take as long of a shower as you want,” she said when she knew he was paying attention. “There is no water rationing here.”

Maul lowered his head, taking in that statement and realizing what it meant, the offer it actually was. Maul wanted a water shower, wanted the feeling of it in his muscles, to put the temperature up as high as he could take and let it purge him of the lingering fog. Maul looked back to her and in a voice that still felt a bit rough, but nowhere near as unused as it had been, “Thank you.”

They nodded in acknowledgement.

Maul went to gather his clothes, but after a moment of thought, merely grabbed his underthings and his pants and left the tunic. It was still scratching at his skin and he still felt a bit raw and oversensitive to just about _everything_. As he turned back to the refresher, he saw something he hadn’t seen before, a small black bottle with a golden lid, and he stared at it for a moment before realizing what it was.

_“I’m going to rub this oil on them. I’ve discovered that what is happening here is that you have a tendency to dry. It’s a common problem in younger Zabraks who are still growing and might continue to follow you, but this will help to keep the keratin stronger and keep it from itching. It’s going to be a bit cool, but it should warm up quickly…”_

This must be what Eeth had been talking about then, the oil he was meant to apply to the skin around his horns and the horns themselves. He thought that it was meant to be every two days that he applied the oil. He wondered if that was all the time or only until his skin and horns began to take to it… Either way, Maul found himself with a bit of a problem.

Maul did not know how long it had been.

The Guards had already talked to him…that meant that he…he could talk to them, could he not?

“Do you know,” he started softly, measuring the words on his tongue, “when last I oiled my horns?”

“I will find out,” the other Guard said, her voice also female. Maul thought that they must have some method of comm within those masks because Maul heard no question, or response, but a brief moment later she nodded and said, “you may oil them today, Lord Maul.”

“Thank you,” Maul returned with a dip of his head, and finally walked into the refresher.

He did his business briefly before turning his attention to the shower and the water setting that he had almost never touched. He turned it on and was briefly startled by the cold before he remembered the feeling of his body being dunked in ice, the way it had shocked his system back into working. He also vaguely remembered Tiq changing him and closed his eyes.

Well.

That was not necessarily something he wanted seen or to have been done to him, but at the time…he had not cared. Maul could not get upset about it now. There was no point. It would likely just hurt the both of them, and for now…for right now, Maul was _tired_ of hurt.

It was not as though he could _use_ it anyway.

He turned the water temperature up, going to strip and finding with a grimace that he almost had to _peel_ the tunic from his skin, before finally stepping into the shower and letting it pound down upon him.

Maul did not know how long he stood there, simply relishing in the feeling of the water, the heat across his skin, and then finally began cleaning himself of what felt like two layers of caked-on sweat.

Disgusting.

Finally, clean he dried off and pulled on his clothes, before turning his attention to the oil for his horns. He remembered the sensation vaguely, and carefully opened the lid before he dabbed the oil itself on his fingers. It was viscous and warmed quickly, and when he finally smoothed it on his forehorn he realized it had…grown…not much, but it had _grown_.

Maul was missing more than days.

Maul was missing _months_ …

Maul took this in for a moment, feeling something yawning and empty reaching for him, but he pressed the oil on, and rubbed it deep.

Maul _wanted_.

He would not let this feeling strip that want from him.

Maul finished applying the oil, rubbing it into the horns on his head and the base around them. When he was finished with the horns, he rubbed the excess into the skin of his hands. It was…nice and had a faint smell of herbs. He looked at his reflection for a moment, taking in the new length to his horns, taking in the tattoos on his face and the way they went down along his chest, before finally letting his gaze drift back up to meet the soft gold of his eyes that were still so unfamiliar to him… Maul had not seen them without that internal burn for so long, he had forgotten they used to be this color.

Maul had apparently forced himself to forget a lot of things.

Maul finally left the refresher and hoped that they brought food soon. Until then, Maul sunk to the ground, and began to stretch.

There was a lingering stiffness in his limbs, and he needed to work that out of him.

* * *

Liana Mun watched as Maul finally came out of the shower, without a tunic and in bare feet, looking a lot like her own teenage Padawan many, many years ago, only, of course, with a great deal more tattoos. The soles of his feet to the top of his head…

It was funny how in those moments Liana could really see how young he actually was.

It was also funny the way that it seemed no matter their species, when it came down to it, most boys were the same. When they got an opportunity, they’d revel in their own physique.

Liana cocked her head at Alema who tilted her head in return, the both of them giving the slightest of rolls in the opposite direction, indicating the eyeroll the two of them shared. Liana laughed quietly, before calling Tiq, knowing that Alema was calling Plo. She knew how teen boys worked. The thing he would be wanting next was food – and frankly he deserved it.

Maul then started working on a stretching routine, a more brutal and frankly impressive one than he had utilized when he had finished exercising. She had to assume that he was working out some lingering stiffness. It also helped highlight the physique that he seemed to be relishing in, and…

Liana knew that Maul was a Nightbrother. She knew that his people were enslaved in the same way that Alema’s were enslaved. Though…Nightbrothers were slaves born. Twi’leks were ultimately slaves stolen.

Liana did not hold the same critical eye as Alema. She did not have the practice, had no reason for it. Liana could only look as someone who would have seen it from a distance, not as someone who would have seen her own people, regardless of the humans that were enslaved – their current charge Anakin was a very strong example of that. Liana could take in those markings, watch the stretch of a body honed to near perfection that would only get better, and see exactly why they would be so prized.

Liana thought of her own Padawan so many years ago and felt that low rumbling of disgust and disquiet run through her. It was not right for that to be the line of thought that trailed between a teenager acting in a way she was familiar with, and similarly knew that most of the ones who had raised a teenage boy were familiar with, to the knowledge that Maul was an enslaved race.

Dathomir and their witches.

“ _Reminds me of Alek_ ,” Alema said, her voice warm and amused, and Liana took a breath, letting it out as well as the lingering thoughts of resentment and anger.

For now, there was nothing they could do.

For now, they were in stalemate and the attempts to bring otherwise would lead to destruction and loss and could hurt or otherwise kill the ones they hoped to save.

But it would not always be that way. Liana wished dearly that she would be alive to see it.

“I was thinking of Li’nith,” Liana retorted, Alema laughing aloud.

“ _You’re not wrong_ ,” Alema agreed. “ _Li’nith was very for that particular look for a while_.”

“I’m actually happy to see him come out like that,” Liana said after a moment. “I don’t know that I have seen him outside of the full ensemble the entire time he’s been here.”

“ _He’s probably relishing in the feeling of being here, of being whole_ ,” Alema said. There was a pause, heavy. “ _It hurts to think of Li’nith_.”

“Have you checked on your old Padawans lately?” Liana asked, thinking of how she had found Alek just the other day, how she had watched him from a distance and remembered how proud she was.

“ _I have_ ,” Alema said.

Liana took in the heaviness in her voice and knew that she was thinking much the same as she was. She was thinking of her own Padawan and thinking how anyone could do that to their charge. To the one in their _care_.

How could someone enslave a child that had loved them?

“He’s taking the steps now, Alema,” Liana said, as much to reassure her as to reassure herself. “We will get there. _He_ will get there. I have faith in him. He has a will of Beskar, there’s no other way he would have been able to last as long as he has if he did not. He’s chosen to take those steps, and I have faith in him to continue the journey.”

“ _And we can help him when we’re able_ ,” Alema said, staring straight ahead, her masked head tilting up in the salute and promise of the Guards, and Liana repeated the motion.

“Oh, holy shit, I have never seen Alec pull _that_ off,” Liana said then, catching sight of Maul pressing his torso flat to the ground while his legs moved into a full split, and then shifting his torso to the side to stretch his hips, one arm flat along the ground while the other rose in the air, his elbow pointed towards the ceiling.

Alema burst out laughing, “ _’Oh, holy shit_ ,’” she repeated.

“Shut up, Alema! I thought he snapped his fool spine!”

Alema laughed harder. 

The sight of Tiq and Plo approaching had the both of them hurriedly working to maintain composure, breathing out their amusement and joy, the soft lingering pangs of bittersweetness, and the anger that underlay everything, and they breathed in the necessary calm.

Baby steps, Liana reminded herself. She had walked baby steps with her own Padawan. They could do this. It would be alright.

It was time to finally remove that collar.

It was time for forward motion.

* * *

Plo carried the tray of food next to Tiq, feeling the warmth and excitement rising the closer they got to that cell. The Guards were standing at their usual attention, both saluting at their approach. The two of them bowed in return, and then turned their attention to the cell.

Plo thought if he had eyebrows, they would have launched themselves right off his forehead.

Maul had twisted himself in such a way that Plo found both extremely impressive and…admittedly rather disconcerting. The full split in combination with that particular twist was…a bit _much_ , he thought. Though when Maul noticed them and instead of righting himself merely took that elbow that was in the air and twisted himself completely to the right, following that elbow back until it was pressed on the ground and folded himself roughly in half with his legs pressed on the ground one way and his back the other…

That…more than justified Tiq’s cry of surprise.

“Force help me,” Tiq managed, “Did you break your back or something? Do you have a _spine_?”

Maul’s brows pinched slightly before he slowly unfolded himself from his stretch, straightening up and crossing his legs beneath him.

“I did not, and I do,” Maul answered, and his gaze was moving towards that tray that Plo was holding. His gaze hesitated there for a moment, and then trailed back up to Plo, his look… Plo smiled at him, the look warm and reassuring and the Guards opened the door, letting them through. Maul blinked, looking surprised momentarily at the number of people entering, but when Plo placed the tray upon the ground he no longer seemed to care.

Plo absolutely did not blame him.

Orientation, Tiq had explained, let him go at his own pace, let him guide where it goes and how, we are there to facilitate.

Plo was more than willing to wait.

Maul looked from them to the tray and Plo waved a hand, “Please go ahead. We will wait.”

Maul hesitated before softly, “Thank you.”

And then immediately went for it.

Plo watched in amusement as Maul took some of the bloodier cuts of meat and worked on wolfing them down, sinking his fangs into it and ripping. It wasn’t the cleanest way of eating but frankly it didn’t matter. Maul had been without the ability to really enjoy any of this in so long…

After the first two Maul slowed way down, his hunger slaked for the time being and simply allowed himself to savor it. Plo and Tiq both began talking quietly, keeping it light and on other things, reminding Maul that they were both still there and that he did not have to hurry.

When Maul finally finished, he pushed the tray away from himself, giving a soft huff of satisfaction. Maul cleaned his hands and his mouth with the wipes they had given him, getting rid of the excess blood, and placed the used wipes back down on the tray when he was done. Tiq sent it to the slot with the Force, something that Maul watched with eyes that…

That was hunger in that gaze. Hunger of a different sort.

Plo could barely wait.

“Thank you,” Maul said again, and those golden eyes finally focused on both of them, before finally drifting towards Plo to settle. Maul’s gaze shifted, looking a bit like he did not know how to approach what he was going to say, and Plo waited patiently, trying to keep his posture as open and nonthreatening as possible. “You…” he paused, hesitating, “you said you would teach me.”

Plo smiled at him, trying to give it all of the warmth all of the compassion that he could, “I did,” he agreed. “We all will if you would let us. We will all help you. We all wish to help you.”

Maul took this in, his gaze drifting to Tiq and finally letting his head bow.

Maul said nothing.

“What does that make you?” he asked softly. “Is it a Master?”

“Perhaps,” Plo said, feeling a jolt in his chest, “a Teacher.”

Maul’s head tilted slightly, taking in this statement, taking in this term and finally, slowly gave a single nod.

“Yes,” he agreed finally, “I see. A Teacher.”

It was a step.

Plo was proud.


	17. Of Words, Training, and Lingering Cages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Collar is Removed, the Dark is Explored, and a reminder that the Physical is not all that binds us is given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really excited for this chapter, guys! I get to play around with a lot of things that I've been exploring for a while including Mind Healing and the possibility of the Dark, why Maul is beaten in the way he is, and... Yeah. There's a lot here. 
> 
> There's also more warnings for Past Child Abuse because Sidious is like that and it's awful. 
> 
> Maul's initial romp through the training room is written to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jp6u-c6Fr70 - though I want to state that it's more in feel and less in tempo.  
> The fight against the Droids was toooooo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZY91ZsyHGw - warnings for this one include drug mention, sex mention, alcohol mention... It's a pretty violent song, Mr. Self Destruct, but it's a good one~ 
> 
> Enjoy!

Maul was still not quite sure what was happening outside of the fact that he _wanted_ it. Maul wanted for Plo to teach him, he wanted for…he wanted for _all_ of them to teach him. That part of him that hungered found the idea of having so many around him satisfying in a way that he did not understand, he just knew it felt…it felt like the removal of a lack.

It felt like another tool in a box.

Maul wanted more tools, he wanted to understand, to know who he was and what was happening, he wanted so much, and they were offering… Maul wondered a bit how he was meant to earn this. He wondered what the catch would be, but Maul would find that out. He had already promised to read the book and to not hurt while he was doing so…

Maul no longer wished to hurt, so that part was easy, the book was a bit more difficult, but Maul could ask questions, he thought. They were meant to teach him, were they not? They were meant to help him understand, and he had to assume that this book…

_There is good in this Galaxy_ …

Maul was not sure what that meant, though he wondered…he wondered if it was something that Meltch had been trying to give him. He wondered…

Maul did not even know where to begin with any of this, did not know how to ask the questions that were tickling at the back of his mind. Maul did not know how to ask about other forms of touch, about why it burned and yet did not _hurt_ him. 

Maul took a breath and then slowly looked to Tiq then, taking in the Rodian that was smiling at him, the warmth in those large eyes. There had been so much…

Maul did not know how to thank that.

“You were there,” Maul said finally, watching him quietly, “the entire time. I remember your voice throughout all of it…”

“I was,” Tiq agreed and that smile broadened, his eyes crinkling with it. “It’s my job, Maul. It’s something I wished to do, not something that you owe me for.”

Maul found his brows knitting slightly, taking in the Jedi before him that was asking him for nothing and mumbling quietly, “Compassion. Weakness.”

Tiq beamed, “Perhaps,” he agreed, “or maybe it’s a gift. Maybe it’s something that you needed and something I chose to provide. It’s something that I’ve trained for years to be able to do, and it is something that I wanted to give.”

Maul took this in, thinking. Maul was not a stranger to training of course, he himself did it all the time, and he supposed that this then must be a skill, something learned and honed through constant work, but that still begged the question… “Why do you train for this? Why is it something you want?”

“To help others,” Tiq answered, “because I cannot bear to see someone hurting when I know that I can help. There is the satisfaction of knowing that I have helped, of seeing someone come out of… Maul, I will not lie to you, you were one of my more difficult patients, and for you to be here… I am pleased for you. I am so happy that I could help you.”

Maul took that in and found that this was…perhaps a bit harder to understand. Maul was no stranger to the satisfaction that came from hard work, and also the knowledge that he had accomplished something, but for it to be another person that mainly benefited, that… That was strange. But Maul thought it might be a Jedi sensibility. This then was easier to understand.

Though perhaps, this was the kind of thing Anakin had meant by _Good_.

“What do you do now?” Maul asked finally.

Tiq smiled at him, “I am…a Mind Healer, Lord Maul,” Tiq answered, “I help people understand themselves, understand what has happened to them and begin to heal.”

Maul found a brow slowly rising, taking this in for a moment, “I see.”

“I am also the Mind Healer that was specifically assigned to you.”

Maul blinked.

“I see,” Maul repeated. “Tell me, Mind Healer, how precisely are you meant to help me with these things? How does this work?”

Tiq beamed at him, and Maul was beginning to notice just how often his eyes did that, “A very good question. I want…the first thing I wish to inform you of is the fact that it is, of course, not instant. We are not creating a miracle cure, we are…giving you methods and understanding that you can use to help when certain situations arise, for instance the panic attack that you had. Do you remember what you have to do?”

Maul was quiet for a moment, thinking, “Grounding, cover your mouth, breathe through your nose – the panic comes from the inability to breathe, so once you breathe you begin to settle. Cold water helps as well.”

“Yes!” Tiq pointed at him, “and so you have a tried-and-true method that you can use should something like that happen again.”

“A tool,” Maul said softly, “a tool I can put in a box…”

“That’s a brilliant metaphor!” Tiq said. “That’s exactly what it is, it’s giving you different tools that you can utilize when you need them. It is…it is also helping you to look back at what happened to you, to be able to settle yourself with your past and your future, to help you understand where you were and where you are going. This is…often done through guided communication, and often through talking, mutual meditation, and should there be enough trust, shared mentalscapes that can be utilized to help. Of course, these scapes are destroyed as soon as the work is done and you do not have to worry about leaving a way into your mind, but this is done much later in the healing process.”

Maul was quiet for a moment, “I do not know how you believe I can do any of these things,” he said finally. “I am bound. The only thing I have to give is my words…”

Maul watched as the two of them smiled at him and felt the slow rise of confusion within him.

“Lord Maul,” Plo said softly, “would you permit me to remove your collar?”

Maul blinked, his hand rising to it instinctively, feeling that jolt, before he found himself asking, “For how long?”

“While you are within this cell, or the other cells you may be transferred to? Permanently,” Plo answered, and there was a smile in his voice, a smile in the crinkling of his eyes, a gentle warmth that positively radiated out towards him and Maul…did not understand.

“Permanently,” Maul whispered.

“Lord Maul,” Plo said softly, “will you permit me to take your hands in mine?”

Maul hesitated, and slowly reached out. It took him a beat to realize that his hands were trembling, but before he could ball them into fists or to pull them back, Plo had reached out and clasped them within his. Once again there was that shock, that jolt from the feeling of those warm and dry hands clasping his, the four fingers feeling so strange and yet so… Plo squeezed, and Maul thought he might have squeezed back but he did not know.

“Lord Maul, you asked me for help in not hurting others, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You asked for help in not hurting yourself?” and once again those hands squeezed, and Maul thought that if he could flush with shame he would. How often had he bit the fingers that Plo was holding? How often had he acted upon that _weakness_? Either way, through numb lips, the only thing he could say was,

“Yes.”

“You do not want to hurt others.”

“I…do not.”

“You do not want to hurt yourself.”

“…” Maul was quiet for a longer moment, taking in the implications and the things that he would be putting up, and finally, softly, “No, I do not.”

“We all want to help you, and one of the ways we believe we can do so is to trust you. You have been kept away from the Force for too long, trapped in a way that has been as bitterly cruel as it was necessary. We want for you to be free, Lord Maul, and one of the ways we can do this is removing the collar from you and trusting you to remain in the cells you are placed in and trusting that you hurt none of us. If you show yourself worthy of this trust there are plans to remove you from these cells, but for right now you need to get used to us, and we need to get used to you. We both draw upon the Force so differently, and you have been trained to hurt for so long…”

“It would be unwise to bring me amongst more Jedi,” Maul said, his voice full of certainty. He knew it was true. He knew that he was likely to react…poorly, that he might hurt them, and most likely it would not even be on purpose. Maul did not yet know how not to hurt; he did not yet know how not to hate.

Though…Maul did not think that he hated Plo. Maul did not think he hated Plo at all… Or Tiq. Or Eeth. Or…

The names that were coming to him, the ones held behind his teeth were as surprising as they were… Maul _wanted_. He wanted, and to get this… But…

“Are you sure this is wise?” Maul whispered. “What if I cannot keep from hurting? Have you asked your Guards?” Maul asked, looking up at them. “I have killed two of your number, six died to the hands of my Master, and you are…you are alright with this collar being removed within your presence?”

“Yes, Lord Maul,” came the answer, together and in sync, full of intensity and warmth. “We are alright with it being removed in our presence. We believe in your ability to change. We believe in your ability to not hurt.”

“And we will help you with this,” Plo said softly. “We will work together.”

“The collar will go back on when I leave these cells,” Maul said, his voice as final as it was heavy. “Until…until I can…”

Plo squeezed his hands and softly, “I wish to remove it from you entirely, to not put it upon you at all.”

“It would be unwise,” Maul whispered. “I do not want to hurt, and I fear that I would, surrounded by so many Jedi. I am…I am fine with this. I _want_ this.”

There was one last squeeze and Plo reached up, “Are you ready?”

And Maul closed his eyes, shifting his position, falling submissive and unthreatening, even the knowledge that they _wished_ to take it off not keeping him from the knowledge that he was still a threat.

Maul…did not want to be a threat to _them_.

“Yes,” Maul finally whispered, and those fingers reached.

Maul felt the soft press of those fingers, the gentle release, and the collar slipped away…

And the Force rolled in.

Maul took a breath and used that to guide the Force into him, to fill him up from the bottom of his feet to the tips of his horns. It was a comforting roar, a familiar burn, and as it swelled within him, he poured his own fuel upon it, stoking it to life and rage and power.

Maul had _missed_ it. Had missed the Dark, had missed the power and the strength, the feeling of off-centeredness slowly shifting as Maul burned, and fed it slowly with the pain, the fear, the anger that was within him, and the slowly building hate. Not towards the Jedi, not towards the ones he had been meant to hate – but to his Master. To the one who had lied and deceived and destroyed.

It was tentative yet, but Maul could feel the ache in his joints, the press in his own hearts that suggested it would grow.

Maul would be strong.

Maul breathed out, and kept the power within him, opening his eyes to look at Plo and Tiq and the Guards that stood there, all of them those strange still-but-deep pools of power, power that Maul could see but not understand.

They had given him the Force.

The Force had freed him.

Though…Maul thought of what had led to this, thought of the choices, the pain, the…strange compassion that he still did not understand and thought, perhaps, that he had freed himself and the Jedi… The Jedi had helped…starting with a Padawan who was not a Jedi yet… Maul did not yet know how to get the Force to free him.

He was not yet strong enough.

But Maul would get there. 

Tiq and Plo were both smiling at him, the gentle warmth in their gaze and Maul…wondered a bit, what he must feel like to them. If they were still pools, then what was Maul? Maul had to think, as he drew that power up and let it churn within him, that he must seem utterly chaotic. There were so many questions to ask, but this train of thought had drawn him to another one, an important one…

“Do you truly believe, Healer,” he asked softly, making eye-contact with Tiq, “that you can help someone like me?”

Tiq took this in for a moment, and finally, quietly, “A fair challenge.” Tiq looked at him for a moment, his gaze so calm. That still pool did not have a single ripple, no reaction to the question, no fear, no anger, nothing. It was surreal. “I have not worked with a Sith,” Tiq finally said. “I have not worked with someone who… _burns_ in the same way that you do. I will admit to the fact that there may be some things that I would do with a Jedi that I cannot do with you, but that is where the slow introduction of trust comes along. It is the ability of us _both_ to come together and find what works. It _will_ be a process, but I believe that it is one that we can shape together. I will help you pour out what you need to and will help you make sense of it.”

Maul took this in for a moment, slowly beginning to nod, and he carefully felt the other out with the Force, not putting any pressure, trying to keep himself as nonthreatening as possible, and softly, quietly: “My Master ripped himself from my mind,” he said. “This is the thing that I have lost. He reached into my mind and ripped himself from me. I do not know his name. I do not know his face. I think of him and the only thing that appears in my mind is a pillar of black, an uncompromising and formidable figure whose voice is a distorted mockery of what I once knew.”

The pool that was Tiq remained still…but Maul thought…

“I was perhaps this big,” he gestured to roughly just under his eye-level as he was sitting, roughly seventy-six centimeters, “the first time my Master introduced my body to lightning.” And there… _that_ …was a ripple. And Maul recognized the anger that flickered within it. “I have another question, Healer,” he said, and kept his eyes locked on Tiq’s, “in helping me, are you sure that you can manage it without Falling, _Jedi_?”

“Falling?” Tiq asked, his chin tilting up and Maul tilted his own head to the side.

“You already hold anger at the thought of my Master and what he has done to me, and you know so little… Do you truly believe that you can hold it all once I begin to ‘pour out’ what is within me?”

Tiq blinked.

Maul stared at him for a long moment and softly, “My Master told me once that it was a Jedi’s compassion that led to their susceptibility to Falling. How they could not become true Sith because they lacked the full comprehension of the Dark, but they could Fall, and they could become close. Perhaps your compassion is a weakness you cannot afford to keep.”

Tiq stared at him for a long moment, and then finally beamed at him. “A rebuttal then,” he said, leaning forward, “why do _you_ care if I Fall? Do you _wish_ for me to Fall?”

Maul tilted his head slightly, allowing a brow to rise and Tiq laughed aloud, clapping his hands together.

“Apologies, I absolutely should not have asked a Sith that question, it probably means nothing to you! So, let me rephrase,” Tiq folded his hands together neatly, and that pool was once again still, “if I say that I do not wish to Fall, would you still wish for me to?”

Maul blinked, before frowning, thinking about that question. Maul truly did not mind the Dark, thought that it would ultimately bring protection and power to those that called upon it, and similarly could protect the ones that he was beginning to… Maul did not know, but it felt much the same as Meltch, something warm within him, something he could not name but something he enjoyed.

But Tiq had stated he did not wish to. Tiq had plainly told him it was not something he wanted, and Maul…did not wish to force something that the other did not want.

Enough of that had been done to him. He would not wish that upon anyone.

“No,” Maul finally said, quietly, decisively. “If you do not wish to Fall then it is not something that I would want for you.”

Tiq smiled at him, and the look was warm and soft, “And that, my dear Lord Maul, is compassion for me and what _I_ want. Do you believe then, that this compassion is a weakness in yourself?”

Maul blinked.

“Disgusting,” Maul finally said. “How do I cut it from me?”

For just a moment Tiq’s face went blank, and Maul kept his presence the normal crackle, and then Plo started snickering, and the entire thing broke, the Guards starting to cackle and Plo letting out his own laughter, Tiq following directly after. Maul…did not understand this.

He did not understand how this tracked with what his Master had said…though his Master had lied about so much. Why not this? 

Nonetheless, Maul still thought it had all been a very fair question, and so remained quiet and patient, watching them all closely. Finally, the laughter had died, and they turned their attention to him, and Maul said:

“I am already Dark. I am already full of Passion. Of Want. I can utilize this in a way you cannot, and will not, which brings me back to the initial question: is it not a weakness?”

Tiq hummed, “I suppose when you say weakness that what you truly mean is ‘danger.’”

Maul frowned. “Are they not the same thing?”

Tiq gave a soft sound. “They perhaps can be interlinked. But I do not believe that my compassion is a weakness, and similarly I am aware of the danger. You, yourself, have issued this warning to me, and I thank you for it.”

Maul blinked.

“You are right in that I am angry at the thought of what your Master has…” Tiq closed his eyes for a moment and then finally stared at him again, “he cut himself from you? You remember nothing of him?”

“I remember his Words and his Teachings and the feeling of his Lightning and the Lessons he drove into my skin and my bones,” Maul answered, “but I remember nothing of the man. Not enough to point to him. Not enough to find him. I likely will be able to recognize his signature – but that is if he lets me feel it.”

“Your Master was the one who taught you how to shield,” Plo said, and Maul looked to him, taking in the Kel Dor’s expression, feeling that soft warmth.

“Yes,” Maul answered. “I will not find him. Not unless he wishes to be found. I am useless to you in this.”

“You are never useless,” Tiq said, and his voice was firm and hard, Plo giving an immediate nod. “Providing of course that he is not dead, it is not up to you to find him, and it is similarly not up to you to protect us from him.”

Maul stared at him for a long moment, “Perhaps. But providing that he is not dead…is it not my job to kill him?”

Plo and Tiq looked at each other and there was a hesitance to the look.

“We will not stop you from being Sith,” Plo said finally, looking to him. “We will allow you to make your own decisions, to pursue your own choices. Your choices will ultimately have consequences.”

“Do you feel that you _can_ kill your Master at this point?” Tiq asked and Maul was quiet for a moment.

“I am stronger than I was,” Maul said, “I have grown in hate and in pain, but I am not yet stronger than him. It would not be something I pursue now. I need to learn…so much before I can do that.”

“But you do wish to kill him.”

Maul hesitated and then softly, “if he still lives?” Maul said nothing for a moment, drifting, and there was hate in his bones, but had that not been there before? Was this then just a retread of the feeling that had come from falling into the ice, of watching his Master stand there doing nothing to help him? Was this not just a retread of hearing that his Master had other Apprentices that were better than him?

But ultimately, Maul knew that it was different, could feel it in the gritting of his teeth, in the slow rise of something black and dark within him, and finally, baring his teeth, his face pulled into a mask of rage and hate, “I would gut him. Is that not the way of the Sith?” Maul sneered and finally looked away, shuttering the rage, keeping it down, out of the way where it could do no harm.

There was a slow nod, a heaviness to the movement. Maul wondered if they were proud of this change, or if they had changed to a different sort of despair.

Maul wondered if it mattered.

And then thought of truly disappointing them and found something ugly within him.

Maul did not like that.

“Regardless,” Tiq said with a soft sigh. “You are right in that I am angry. But I have ways to channel my anger, to feed it to the Force and not let it corrupt me. If I let it corrupt me then how could I help?”

“Can _I_ not help?”

Tiq beamed at him. “ _You_ can, but you would not be the same as me, would you?”

Maul took that in for a moment before finally giving a slow nod.

“I have seen so much loss, Lord Maul. I have been on worlds that experienced a Genocide and worked their people through it. I have been the one with the boots on the ground helping the survivors of a Civil War pick up the pieces of their lives and deciding where to go. You are right in that it is a danger, but it is one that I have decided to face, and it is one that I am more than willing to face if it allows me to help you. If you work with me on not letting me Fall, and similarly I work with you on unwinding some of that awful twisting within your gut and in your soul, I believe that we can do it. I believe that I can help.” Tiq held out a hand, “will you let me?”

Maul stared at that hand, looked to Tiq, and then finally reached out and took it, squeezing. Tiq smiled at him and squeezed back.

“Now,” Plo said with a smile, “I am sorry to ask you to put the collar back on so quickly, but we have somewhere we want to take you.”

Maul blinked, for a moment a ripple of foreboding overtaking him, and he stared between them. “Take me?” he asked, taking his hand back. “I don’t understand, where?

“I’m sorry,” Plo said, “that was too abrupt of a change, and much too vague. You are not going to be tested, you are not going to be hurt. You have been lost for a very long time,” Plo said softly, meeting his gaze, “and your brain absolutely needs the added stimulation of somewhere new, of being able to get used to new things. We were going to take you to one of our Training Rooms,” Plo explained. “We also have another thing to discuss with you about that collar, in that if there are enough Council members together when you are in a space like that, enclosed and empty of others…we will be taking the collar off then as well. You will be allowed to train.”

Maul stared at him, feeling something rise up within him, overwhelming, and he balled his hands into trembling fists. “I will…you will take me… I thought the deal was to finish the book and go to the Archives?”

“It is, still!” Plo smiled, holding a finger up, “but Teacher Yoda has stated that that is strictly for the Archives. He never said a word about the Training Rooms.”

Maul hesitated and finally laughed aloud, before reaching for the collar, snapping it around his neck. “I see…let me get ready please?”

“Absolutely,” Plo said and he was smiling, “no rush whatsoever.”

Maul moved to throw on his tunic and thump his boots on his feet, bouncing on his toes to get used to the feel, working his way through the knots and the buckles of his tunic and then his belt and turned to look at them.

“The Guards will escort us, and, as the Night Cycle is finally upon us, there shall be very few stragglers within our halls. Eeth, Yoda and Mace will be waiting for us there, and we will remove the collar upon our entrance.”

Maul took all of this in, feeling a rising excitement bubbling up within him.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“Of course,” Plo said, and he stood up with Tiq, and for the first time since Maul had been transferred to this cell…

The doors opened for him.

Maul was not truly free, not yet, but he was taking steps to get there, and for right now as he finally took his first steps out into the halls of the Jedi… Maul thought that he was getting there.

Maul looked to Plo and Tiq, felt the presence of the Guards form up on either side of him, their lightsaber pikes held up in warning, symbolically igniting the blade pointed down.

It was not a direct threat, not yet, but it could be.

Maul approved. He also could not wait.

* * *

Tiq had a lot to think about.

Maul was right in that he was absolutely going to be one of his more difficult cases, and he was also right about the danger. But Tiq was also highly trained and highly experienced, arguably the best Mind Healer in the entire Order – and he did not wear that title lightly. Tiq had several tricks of his own and methods to keep himself from…Falling.

It was interesting that Maul would consider a Fallen Jedi as something different than a Sith, though it made sense. The young man had grown up in the Sith arts, trained in them until they pulsed within his hearts and in his lungs. It was much like being a Jedi. You could leave the Order, but ultimately you took those lessons with you.

Tiq…did not like a lot of the lessons that Maul was taking with him.

Tiq did not like that most of Maul’s anger at his Master seemed to be in the form of Betrayal, and not understanding fully that what his Master had done to him was _wrong_. Though, perhaps, there was an interlinkage.

Tiq knew that what had triggered the initial episode had been…had been a little girl named Ahsoka, a child that had been treated in a way…

Ahsoka was taller than Maul had indicated.

Ahsoka would have been older than the child who had been introduced to Sith Lightning.

Tiq wondered a great deal what had triggered that introduction, what had… Tiq thought that eventually he would find out.

As it was, Tiq was able to walk behind Maul and the Guards standing on either side of the Zabrak, Plo leading the way. Tiq stood a little off to the side in order to not truly be behind Maul, always in his peripheral vision so he would not surprise or otherwise startle him. So, he would not be a _threat_ , and Tiq could observe Maul and his reactions to where he was and where he was going.

Tiq knew that Maul had not been outside of that cell, had not been able to see the Temple from the inside, and so this would be something that Maul desperately needed. To be able to examine everything quietly, to be able to take in his surroundings and know. They were taking Maul into their heart.

There was a lot of trust in what they were doing, and he knew that Maul knew that, could see it in the way Maul was working on keeping his gaze mostly straight ahead, not looking around…

But frankly that was not what they wanted.

Tiq pointed off to a statue to their left, Maul’s attention immediately drawing towards it, “Jedi Master Horuntorus,” he explained, “he was known as the Protector, it is why we keep him near our prisons. It is where he would want to be.” And that, of course, started Plo on pointing things out, immediately catching onto what Tiq was doing, the two of them guiding Maul through what he was seeing, letting him take it in.

And now that Maul knew he was able to look he took it in like a sponge, those golden eyes darting whenever Tiq could see them, taking in everything around him. As they finally entered the main hall, mostly empty at this late hour – and the ones that were there knew not to approach – they walked him to the center of it and waited patiently so Maul could slowly turn around, staring around at everything, taking it all in.

His gaze went to the wide windows, his eyes narrowing slightly, then shifted to the towering statues and the tapestries, before finally looking down at his feet, taking in the carpets, the marbling, and finally, softly, “It is…very _open_.”

That…had not been what Tiq had expected he would say.

Though he found himself humming softly, “It is,” he agreed. “Not at all like Sith Temples I am assuming,” he smiled, before he found a creeping suspicion rising. “Your Master has taken you to Sith Temples has he not? Or are they too…dangerous?”

“Sith Temples are dangerous to those who are not Sith,” Maul replied, “to the ones that have no power over them, but I am a Sith. I was taken in many.”

Tiq nodded slowly, trading a glance with Plo. Plo was the one who softly asked, “Out of curiosity, is your comment on practicality, or defensibility?”

Ah, now that…was a good question.

Maul frowned at him. “Are the windows ray shielded?”

Defensibility.

_Amazing_.

Tiq understood on one hand why Maul would absolutely be thinking of ways to attack the Temple, but there was no hostility or intent in the question, and similarly Tiq thought that it wasn’t because Maul wished to cause harm… Maul was someone who had been trained in the art of being a weapon. Tiq thought that it was from - tentative though it may be, and probably not even truly aware of what it actually was - but it was from _concern_.

Very interesting.

There was also a potential likelihood that Maul might be interested in helping them increase security once he actually was taken out of his cells and was fully trusted. He could tell by the way the Guards looked at each other, the brief burst of interest from the both of them, that they were thinking the same.

That might actually be very helpful, to have a Sith perspective, to have someone who had trained in being their enemy, to help them reinforce their borders. As it was, there was an answer and that was – “Yes,” Tiq said. “While a lot of this Temple is built with open air and openness in mind, to influence and create trust, we do work on protecting our people. The windows are a…”

“Bluff,” Maul said softly, looking to them.

“Yes,” Tiq said, “That is a good way to look at them. They attract attention but spending a great deal of time attacking them would get you nowhere.”

Maul nodded, his expression satisfied, and he looked to the statues on either side of the door, “and I suppose those would act as a sufficient barricade if necessary…”

Tiq nodded in agreement. “They would if it became necessary! Though the Temple has not been attacked in a very long time. Either way, we would be quite safe.” 

Maul hummed, not saying anything for or against that statement, and returned his gaze to looking at his surroundings, though now Tiq was quite certain that he did not appreciate the art or the openness. Tiq rather thought that it was simply finding more avenues, more escapes, more means of protection.

What an utterly exhausting mindset to take.

An understandable one, Tiq absolutely understood why he would have it, but still so exhausting.

Tiq…definitely wanted to give the one before him some paint, or clay, or something that he could _create_. He thought it would be a good exercise for him and be good to broaden his understanding. Tiq would ask him if he had ever painted before. But later.

They had a training room to get to.

Maul turned to them and Plo gave a nod, and once again began leading them through. Maul took in the tapestries, eyeing them with a critical eye that Tiq suspected had nothing to do with the craftsmanship… He wondered how Maul would view them, whether as a bind or as a _blind_ , something to use as a distraction while the rest escaped. Plo once again took up quietly guiding Maul’s attention, telling him history and where things had come from, what their meaning was. Maul took this in actively, and Tiq hoped that if nothing else Maul was enjoying the ability to learn, that this was filling a need.

They finally made it to the elevators that would take them to their destination and Maul hesitated, looking to it, his hands momentarily fisting. Enclosed space…outnumbered…

“To the back,” the Guards ordered, and Maul followed instructions, “back against the wall,” one of them said, and Maul did so, putting his back to the wall and the Guards approached, standing on either side facing him. Plo and Tiq both entered as well, placing themselves in the other corners so Maul would not feel threatened or crowded. He relaxed slowly, and Plo pressed the proper button, sending them up to the Training Room specifically for the Masters.

They figured that Maul would be craving a challenge, would be craving the ability to run and to jump and to weave through obstacles, and this one would give him that. It would also give him more options when it came to sparring, should he wish for it.

Tiq was admittedly very curious to feel how a Sith fought and used the Force in general, to feel how he called it to him and utilized it. Tiq had a feeling that Maul would not let it flow through him, which meant that Maul must somehow command it.

This, too, seemed as though it would be exhausting.

Though, Tiq had no real idea, and certainly was not sure that he could tell Maul to simply give up all of his training and the way he linked with the Force. Not without providing an alternative he could use, and Tiq wondered a bit about Maul and his ability to come to the Light Side. If Maul had burned like this his entire life, then the quiet tranquility of the Light Side would likely be considered antithesis to the Zabrak and potentially of no value. It really depended on Maul, Tiq supposed.

Tiq could foresee a lot of conversations on the nature of the Force in his future.

If nothing else, though, Tiq was very aware of the fact that if Maul decided to change, or made a choice either way, Tiq thought that Maul would follow it through. A person did not get through what Maul went through for as long as he did without having an iron will. Whatever Maul had decided made it worth it, Maul had followed his Master through torture, unimaginable cruelty, and a level of desentientization that would have killed most children.

Tiq thought of how young Maul had to be when Sith Lightning was applied to him for the first time, thought of the way he reacted to touch as though he had never been held, and had to hold back a grimace.

The elevator stopped, Plo walked out first, the Guards with Maul went second, and Tiq took his place at the rear again.

The Training Room was just ahead.

If nothing else, Tiq could not wait to give Maul the ability to have fun, because frankly he thought that this was what it would be – weapon or no, Tiq thought that Maul would have fun.

This was of utmost importance, and Tiq found himself smiling as the door opened, and Plo led them inside.

* * *

Maul was not sure how much he enjoyed Jedi architecture.

It was open and bright and there were so many avenues of destruction, of pain that he could see. Maul understood that it was meant to be a Temple, but he thought it was almost more of a palace. Something opulent and open, something meant to show off.

The Temples of the Sith were ultimately nothing like this. Filled with traps and guile… Though, Maul suspected that there might be many hidden tricks and traps within the walls, Tiq had stated that the windows were ray shielded after all, which did ultimately come with the idea that there were other defensible things hidden, in which case he could appreciate the subterfuge.

Though he supposed the massive amount of Jedi within would be a deterrent in and of itself. The Sith since Bane had never had the numbers to pull off such a thing. Their entire methods were in secrecy and subterfuge.

And ultimately, Maul’s opinion likely did not matter.

What he was really interested in was the training rooms, to the point where even the long elevator ride had not been much of an upset. To be able to leave that lift and come directly to the room in question… Maul followed Plo as he opened the door, and the first thing Maul’s gaze did was fixate upon the three people waiting.

Windu, Yoda, and Eeth all sat there in the middle of a…the room was larger than Maul had initially expected.=

Maul found his gaze immediately flitting around, taking in the large climbing walls, the ropes, the pillars, and platforms that were woven through the rafters, the beams to walk on and the targets lined along the wall. A wall of weapons that were obviously meant for training was along one side and Maul could see probe droids that would likely fire lasers, and even a few droids that looked like they were for either hand-to-hand, or saber combat.

Maul kept moving out of long practice, not falling victim to the need to gawk around himself that he wished to.

Ultimately, the three men in the center, as well as the ones that were around him, were more important than any of their surroundings.

They were the ones that would remove his collar. They were the ones that would set him loose to… What?

Would they have a way that Maul was meant to train? Would they have guidelines or requests to make?

Maul was willing to take on the challenge.

He had a feeling this might actually…

This might be interesting.

Maul came forward to stand before the Jedi there who all gave him signs of acknowledgement and welcome, nods of the head, smiles, their expressions warm and inviting. Maul…was still unused to such a thing. But he nodded back the same. Eeth approached him and Maul held very still for a moment, before taking his own step forward to meet him. Eeth smiled, before lowering his head slightly towards him. Maul hesitated, for a moment not understanding the gesture, and then remembering with a jolt, a feeling of horns locking with his, the talk of it being a traditional Zabrak greeting, the…

Maul held a shudder back, taking a step forward, and pressed his horns against Eeth’s, closing his eyes against the rush of warmth. His body still screamed for this contact and Maul did not understand, but he kept it there until Eeth pulled his head back, stepping away.

“Welcome, Maul,” Eeth smiled. “This is the Councilor’s Training Room,” that smile turned into a grin, “What do you think?”

Maul paused, made a show of looking around, turning slightly on the spot, and finally, simply, “Adequate.”

The delighted laughter was…strange. And now that Maul had managed to get it, he did not know what to do with it. Maul lowered his head slightly, and that was when Eeth held his hands up carefully, keeping them open and farther away at first. Maul understood it was to keep him from reacting poorly and Maul, as much as he hated it, welcomed the fact that Eeth was not crowding him.

“May I?” he asked, and Maul nodded, tilted his chin back and let Eeth remove the collar.

Once again, the Force rolled in and Maul had to close his eyes to work it through his veins and his hearts, letting it beat within him.

Maul opened his eyes, feeling a wellspring of anticipation building within him, feeling the rush within.

Maul was ready.

“What would you like to do first?” Eeth asked.

Maul was less ready for that.

Suddenly the Training Room that Maul had implied was so much less than the Sith seemed much more impressive. Maul did not know.

Though…Maul was taller now. He could feel it, knew it, his horns were longer… A more basic warmup would probably be good, in order to gain control of where his limbs were and learning how much his actual reach had improved. There were mats to his left as well as pillars that seemed to promote running along them to the climbing wall and working one’s way up.

That…didn’t seem like a bad place to start. But Maul also recognized that he wanted to get more of a challenge, and weapons training was one of his favorites… Maul frowned for a moment, thinking, and then finally tilted his head to the mats.

“I have a request,” he said finally.

“Yes?” Eeth asked.

“If I seem to be getting complacent with anything…add something else. A drone or a droid or throw me a training weapon if…if I am permitted. All three if necessary.”

“Are you sure you wish to react to what we choose?” Tiq asked.

“Yes,” Maul answered. “I do wish to…” he frowned, “I got taller. I think the first thing I need to do is get used to it, but from there I find it more…challenging to react.”

“And you want a challenge?”

“How long has it been?” Maul asked. There was a pause there, and Maul felt a brief burst of anger at the pause, at the expectation of weakness. Maul opened his mouth before they could, before there can be any platitudes, any comments to calm him. Maul wanted his anger. “I know it has been months,” he said without inflection, fact. “How many?”

There was a pause, Maul thought it might be surprise, either way…

“Three,” Tiq answered. “It has been three months in the coma. It was three more with us before that. Two months within the first cell.”

“You have been with the Jedi for eight months.”

Maul thought that through for a moment.

Eight months.

Eight months before he found himself renouncing his Master. But Maul had spent those three months in his own head. Maul had had all of the pieces to know that he should, that his loyalty, his… Maul did not regret the choice. Maul had cut his hearts out too many times. He had none left to give the ghost of his Master, the one that had torn himself from him, ripped himself from his mind and thrown him away.

Maul would learn.

Maul would learn and he would burn.

“How did you know it had been months?”

Maul blinked, coming out of his musings to look to Plo, before bringing a finger up to his horns, pressing against his forehorn.

“Oh!” Plo gave a call, “Forgive me my ignorance, I understand how that would be a good marker. I had not been aware that they grew that quickly, and I have known present company for a very long time.”

“They grow very quickly when you’re young,” Eeth said in explanation, grinning. “They slow down a bit as we get older.”

Maul took this in, noting it down in his hearts.

Another tool. A tool his Master never gave him.

Even now the fact that his Master had worked so hard to take so much from him was obvious. Even the one thing that Maul had true claim over, his own body, had been marked and branded by his Master, the way it worked had been kept from him. Maul had always worked hard to be sure that he knew exactly where his limits were at all times, knew how his body moved and responded in every situation… But there was this gap in his knowledge that Maul had not even thought to look for. Though now that he knew it was there…

Maul needed to fill that gap.

Maul needed to fill his box.

As it was, “Six months…” he said roughly, drawing their attention. “That is more than enough time to stagnate. I welcome a challenge.”

“Very well,” there was a nod. “We will make sure to give it to you, but we will give you the opportunity to warm up first.”

“Thank you,” Maul said with a nod. Maul did not mind if they wished to watch him train. Maul was used to the steady gaze of his Master.

If they wanted a show…Maul would give them one.

* * *

“ _I am stronger in hate and in pain_ ,” Maul had said, and Plo had listened to that and a part of him had found himself momentarily saddened.

Maul asking about defensive capabilities, looking around not in any sort of appreciation for the art that was on display but instead thinking of it all as barricades and weaknesses, traps and binds… Plo had wanted more of an opportunity to talk Maul through what they did have as defenses, to hopefully set that twisting mind at ease, but ultimately as Tiq pointed instead to the objects of art and the tapestries, Plo figured that it must be a different method of appeasement. The sort where a distraction was offered, to give him a different perspective and a different focus, to get him to start thinking of what was around him by their actual purpose, and not as a weapon.

Maul needed to learn to think in these ways if he was going to make any true progress in bucking his Master’s influence fully.

As it was, they could give him an opportunity to stretch, and to challenge himself in a way that he likely needed.

It had been a long time.

Plo also had to admit to being curious about how a Sith trained, about the way he would work his way through their training rooms, and ultimately how he would feel. That burn, that snapping, crackling fire was beginning to gather within Maul’s core, held there strong and so sure… He wielded it with an ease of long exposure, of the way of most Knights, and even some Masters.

Maul had called himself a Sith Lord, claimed that his Master had appointed him so before he was sent to Naboo – young as he was, failed as he was, he was a Lord of the Sith.

This was about to be very enlightening.

And then Maul moved.

And the Dark rose up to meet him.

Maul threw himself into a leap, bouncing off of one pillar’s surface and onto another, all liquid grace and stunning acrobatics, the Dark a crackling wave that burned within him. He pressed off of one side with hands, to land on the second’s vertical surface with his feet, and then dove back again. He caught himself on the lip of one of the platforms, swinging himself up into a handstand and easily perched there for a long moment, slowly pushing the limits of his flexibility, of his control, raising himself on a singular hand and letting his legs fall into a split above him, holding, holding, and slowly going farther and farther, before finally seeming to be satisfied, and flipped off the edge.

A Jedi would have slowed the fall.

Maul embraced it.

Diving down, almost challenging death and gravity and every power that came against him, he rolled, and the sudden forceful burn was like an explosion of heat and flickering fire, catching himself before he landed, changing it into another roll, and once again kicking himself off into a series of twists and spins.

Length and breadth of his limbs, Plo reminded himself, watching as the Zabrak was sure to land on a singular limb at least once, and there were those moments of stretch and twist and Tiq’s comment on a lack of spine had never seemed more appropriate.

And that burn was beginning to brighten.

It was _chaos_ and it was strange, because as Maul seemed to blaze brighter with it, as he allowed himself to crackle with it, finally moving back to leaping between platforms and utilizing the Force to propel himself up and up and spun through a hole in the net that Plo hadn’t been sure he could fit in, but he did it so well, and that was ultimately the thing that shocked him, because Maul thrived off of that chaos.

“Probe droid?” Eeth asked, humming, his head tilting.

“Two, I think,” Yoda said.

“Should we give him a weapon?” Plo asked.

“Do you think he’d take it as an insult?” Mace asked.

There was a pause.

That burn exploded then and Maul lifted the pillars he had been leaping on, guiding them across the room and repositioning them with an ease that belied their size and weight.

Plo tilted his head. “Insult.”

“Two it is.”

The two probe droids came to life with a crackle and a series of whistling beeps, Maul’s attention drawing to them sharply.

They watched those Sith eyes burn, and there was a flash of a grin, and then he dropped down through the netting again, and he _taunted_ the droids. Maul dipped and twisted and slid between their view, moving between the pillars he had rearranged, cartwheeling, and twisting around the lasers that were sometimes shot whenever he stayed in place for just long enough to tease it out of the droids.

Maul definitely would have thought a weapon was an insult.

And then he vanished.

One moment he was there, leaping between the pillars, and then he was just gone, completely winked out.

For one moment it was like when he had lost himself, lost his mind, and Plo felt his heart leap into his throat. And then he remembered the fact that Maul could cloak, could hide so well and there was that momentary thought that Maul could have just used the opportunity to leave, to escape…

But then there was a flash of horns, a flash of red, and Plo came to realize as that flash paused to look at them, that it was absolutely meant to be seen.

Maul was still here was the message, he was not trying to escape…

Maul was _hunting_.

They relaxed, watching, waiting, wondering what Maul would do, how he would defeat the droids that had switched to a more defined grid search, scanners whirring.

There was no sign of him.

Maul had just vanished, a whisp of smoke, a flash of red and black and then nothing.

The probe droids continued their grid, continued their search, before finally coming together once again, beeping at each other, trading information, trading signs.

For a moment they spun in place, and then they began to separate, their scanners sweeping to either side.

And then Maul was there in the netting, tunic taken from his shoulders and held just so, and then he fell directly on top of the probe droid beneath him, catching it within the tunic and easily sliding around the bolts, spinning in midair to throw the probe droid into the other, that was still so close – too close – the two droids colliding with a crackling buzz.

Maul didn’t move to replace his tunic and singularly didn’t look like he would stop moving, and there was such a _burn_.

Maul was _fire_.

The Dark Side was fire. Crackling, chaotic, and yet for as much as Plo wanted to think that it would eventually snuff, that Maul could not contain it for long, it seemed to just burn brighter, purer, with a ferocity and a…

And a Joy. 

Plo had never thought that the Dark Side would be something reacted to with Joy. Plo had never thought to think of what it would feel like to someone who had grown up with it.

Plo had never thought that the Dark Side could be so sustained.

The sound of a hand-to-hand combat droid whirring to life as the two probe droids remained down caught Maul’s attention, and they watched that spark flicker and shift, and get much…Darker. Maul watched as the Droid approached, punching those padded knuckles together, and Maul tilted his head, and there was that less…pure fire, that less pure joy, shifting instead to something almost _dangerous_.

Fire was beautiful, could give heat and light and life, but there was no doubt that fire could hurt, fire could burn out of control and destroy and cause terrible, terrible devastation, even now, even here…

But Maul was a controlled burn came the realization even as he once again teased the Droid into attacking, keeping his hands behind his back, dodging backwards, stepping, and sliding and generally letting his own footwork guide him out of harm’s way. He ducked and twisted, utilizing his flexibility once again, and when he seemed to tire of that he switched to actively messing with the Droid. Diving between its legs, leaping up to temporarily face it upside-down, falling into a pike and kicking up into a handstand that sent him into another back handspring and finally launched himself forward, head lowered, spine in complete alignment.

**_Crack_ **

Went the plating covering the Droid’s internal circuits as Maul’s horns pierced through it,

**_CRASH_ **

Went the sound of it dropping to the ground and Maul pulled back, rolling his shoulders, and softening the lock of his spine, twisting to catch hold of the padded fist that had come towards the back of his head, hoping to catch him off-guard. Maul retaliated with a sharp hit underneath the arm, hitting it with such controlled precision it came right off.

He then used the arm to beat the Droid repeatedly.

Well.

Why not, Plo thought.

Maul continued to use that Droid’s arm as a bludgeon, beating it down, before throwing it into the face of another that had approached, following after it, leaping up in the air and bringing his feet down upon its shoulders, using the Force to give himself the weight he did not have, flattening it down onto the ground and leaping off of it, flashing into a split-kick that shattered the faceplate off of one Droid and sent the other reeling back.

Maul fell down into a crouch, before twisting through the two remaining hand-to-hand Droids, finally lifting his own fists up, and that fire burned, controlled furious burn, and one fist was planted in the already dented chestplate, popping it, and then the other reached up to grab at the other Droid’s head and slam it into his knee twice, before twisting it up over his head and slamming it back onto the other Droid.

So much broken scrap.

The crackling hum of a training saber came to life then, and Maul tensed, and that fire suddenly turned…sharp.

The Joy guttered, winking out as he took in the approaching training droids. Maul’s gaze turning calculating in a way it had not before, the Fire being strangled into something more…serious, something more deadly.

And that was interesting.

They did not have a double-bladed training saber in this Training Room.

It was a mistake.

But the tossing of two sabers was hopefully a good enough compromise.

Maul caught them, igniting them, for a moment taking in the blue and the green that burned in his hands, and then he looked to the Droids.

The salute he gave was mockery incarnate.

And then once again he was moving.

Maul danced through Jar’Kai like he was born for it. And that was how Maul performed Jar’Kai, Plo realized, almost a dance, a taunting series of movements that caught and encouraged the Droids to begin moving through their difficulty settings as they reacted to him, as they should.

Their stances got stronger, their movements more refined, even as Maul caught sabers and brought his foot up into their faceplates, danced between them, waiting until he thought they were actually enough of a match for him, and then that fire caught, burned, and Maul moved away from Jar’Kai.

Maul wielded Juyo as though it was _made_ for him.

In battle, in an actual match, Plo could see where some of his weaknesses were, the way he was just a touch too aggressive, just a bit too sure of his own skill, but as it was… Maul’s Dark rose up in a wave of power that was transferred into every single movement, every single repost, and attack, and Juyo was ultimately about _attack_.

Maul burned bright enough to overwhelm most opponents, the Dark a powerful, and steadily heading towards _awful_ sensation, oil-slick and threatening. It was strange, seeing something that had once been so full of a bright and powerful joy shift to something so utterly not.

But Maul was still, Plo thought, having fun.

It was just a different sort of fun, one where he seemed to relish in the moments when the two Droids genuinely threatened him, where they almost landed burns to skin, but never quite managed it. Plo could see as he watched just how Maul had managed to take both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and work to overwhelm them, separate them. Maul eventually decided to work on picking them off, on _winning_ , and began working to separate them.

Power and crackling energy and leaping from pillar to pillar, taunting the Droids and getting them to over-extend, bringing feet into play more than once, sharp, and powerful kicks that sent them stumbling.

The difficulty was still increasing, and Maul’s presence was turning more focused, more Dark, more dangerous.

That fire was starting to spread.

And then one of them managed to land a burn on the inside of his wrist.

It wouldn’t have worked to cut it off should it be a real lightsaber, Maul’s maneuvering too quick and his repositioning too dexterous, but nonetheless…

Nonetheless.

That fire coalesced, sharpened into something that could only be described as black and death and _hate_ , and Maul _exploded_.

This was apparently what he had been waiting for, the moment when they actually posed something of a threat to him, the moment they were actually a challenge.

And Plo had never felt such hate.

But he also noticed something. For as much of a power it had brought him, and Maul reeked with power in a way that he had not before, it made him…sloppy.

Single-minded.

That…

Was interesting.

Even as Maul was able to overpower them back and back and back, able to fend them off and destroy their attempts to crush him, there were more openings, more instances when… Maul was drawing entirely upon Hate.

Mace made a sound, one that drew Plo’s attention, watching as Mace stared at Maul with a look that hadn’t been there before, something that spoke of recognition.

“That is what he felt like when he fought me,” Mace said, his voice thoughtful. “That power, yes, but also that… _tenacity_. He over-extended, that’s what finally let me beat him, because he was so angry and so focused on destroying me that he didn’t pay attention to what he was doing.”

There was a pause, the whole of them taking this in.

“It’s reckless…”

Maul suddenly seemed to draw even more power to him, and Mace’s brows raised slowly. “That…is stronger than before.”

And then Maul reached.

That hand came out suddenly after he successfully disarmed one of them, the other getting his boot directly in their faceplate, and he brought that hand up.

The Droids lifted with the movement, both of them trembling, trying to break out as Maul’s hand rose, that hate erupted…

And the two Droids were crushed as Maul’s hand balled into a fist, dropping to the ground a beat later as he released.

Maul stood there for a moment, seemed to register there was nothing else coming, followed up by realizing what he had just done, and dropped to his knees, the training sabers falling to his side untouched and deactivated, bowing forward until his head touched the ground.

Plo felt something twist within him.

That…was something they needed to work him out of. Plo couldn’t stomach the submission.

Maul remained there, the tension thick, when Yoda gave a soft hum, walking forward and rapping his gimer stick against the broken droids, drawing Maul’s attention slowly up. “Beaten, I’d say these are, hmm?”

Maul looked from Yoda to the Droids, and finally tilted his head, before frowning. “I…” he took a breath. “I apologize.”

Yoda waved his stick, “A long time it has been, caught up in your own strength you were. No surprise, no surprise…” Yoda shook his head. “Impressive it was.”

Maul frowned, looking at the Droids, before he shook his head.

Yoda raised a brow slightly, waiting patiently.

“It has been a long time…” he finally said. “I have lost sight of my own strength.”

“Stronger you are?”

“Yes,” Maul answered, the word certain. “Much.”

There was a slow nod and Yoda huffed. “New droids we can get, accidents happen when one is learning. No issue this is.”

There was a pause as Maul took this in, his eyes shifting minutely. Yoda was patient, easily waiting him out.

“…New droids?” Maul asked softly. “You do not fix them?”

There was a pause and Plo found a burst of interest coming to life, walking forward to gain Maul’s attention. 

“ _Can_ you fix them?” Plo asked.

Maul inclined his head. “I am experienced in Mechu-Deru. If you would like, I can repair them.”

Yoda waved his gimer stick in open invitation, taking a step away.

Maul took a breath, centered himself, released it, and raised his hands once again.

This then, was another tool of the Dark Side that Plo had not expected. It was also immediately noteworthy that when Maul stated ‘experienced,’ he perhaps should have stated ‘proficient.’ Plo’s focus soon changed from what it felt like in the Force – an oddly symphonic sort of pulse that grew and shifted to something more melodic the closer to completion it became – to the sight of the parts that were stripped apart, the slow bending and rearranging and reshaping of them until the Droids were pieced back together again, resplendent.

They activated at a wave from Yoda, the two of them picking up their sabers and returning to their idle position against the wall, where they deactivated.

“Impressive,” Mace said, “for all your talk of experience, I have not seen anyone more skilled in it.”

Maul blinked, looking a bit like he did not understand the statement.

“Strong you are. Full of much lighter emotions you are when calling upon the Force for such a purpose,” Yoda noted. “The way you called it before, your initial warm-up… Your Master, felt like that has he?”

Maul was quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing, looking for a moment as though he could not think of a time.

That was a good question, Plo had to admit. It opened up the question of whether that was simply something that anyone who tapped into the Dark Side could reach, or whether Maul, due to his unique upbringing, was somehow more attuned to it. A Nightbrother, already Dark Aligned, trained in the ways of the Sith since birth.

“I believe my Master felt similar when utilizing his Lightning.”

Maul could not have driven the breath from his lungs faster than if he had punched him. Plo remained standing out of a mixture of Jedi calm and the knowledge that Maul would perhaps react poorly. It did not stop him from taking a very slow stuttering breath in, and slowly breathing it out, fighting for the calm that he needed. Yoda had not said anything, the slightest rounding of his eyes the only hint of the pain that he knew Yoda would be feeling. The silence was omnipresent, and Maul was beginning to shift, his head instinctively bowing lower, before softly, quietly,

“Was my answer not satisfactory?”

Plo took a breath, going to take a step forward, wanting somehow, desperately to communicate to Maul that it… It was not his fault and that question, the confusion within it…

Yoda gave a soft sound, shaking his head, and took a step forward. Maul stared at him evenly, no flinch in expression or in body, watching Yoda as he took that step, so he was standing directly before him. “Too tall, you are,” Yoda said gently, softly, “to my level, will you come?”

Maul blinked, looking uncertain for a moment before Yoda tilted his head up towards him, leaning in such a way to bring his forehead close. Maul brightened in brief understanding before very gently, very carefully lowering himself, so his horns were pressed against the wrinkled skin.

“Satisfied with your answer I am not,” Yoda said gently, “ _your_ fault it is not. To take joy in your suffering…a terrible thing this is. Stronger you may think it made you, but your pain…joy it does not bring me. Joy it does not bring us. Care for you, we do.”

“Compassion,” Maul said softly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Yoda smiled. “A weakness you may think it is, but your life…too much pain it has been. Unbalanced it has made you. Gentleness, compassion, you need. A great asset you may find that it is.”

Maul said nothing.

Before,

Quietly.

Softly.

“I do not understand.”

“Teach you we will. Know you shall.”

“…Yes…Teacher.”

Plo could breathe. Plo looked to Tiq, who was looking very pleased, and knew that he likely had a very long list of things to talk about. Plo could not wait to help.


	18. Interlude 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein forgotten questions are asked, forgotten revelations are made, and seeds are planted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the meaning of Pain is shown, and the true beginnings of the question are asked. 
> 
> The explanation that Sidious gives Plagueis as to how he found the child is given in the Legends canon - it is not in use here, Sidious is a liar and a thief. 
> 
> Warnings: ....Oh, manipulation of a child, Plagueis is a snake - but gosh do I love him, STRONG STRONG STRONG child abuse. There is only one source I've seen for what Maul looked like getting his tattoos from his Master and it is. Unpleasant. However! In keeping with the idea that Nightbrothers are marked around Birth and Maul was taken as a babe that did not get marked, we did have to put them on him a lot earlier than they were in said source because he's still got to go to Orsis since it would be sketch if he did not have them. This is a really unpleasant concept.

Plagueis had first taken in the baby held within his Apprentice’s arms with idle indifference.

A Force Sensitive Zabrak, a Nightbrother, skin red as blood, and horns already sharp and wicked. Given to Sidious by his mother, hoping to give him a better life, Sidious had explained. She had recognized his Force Sensitive abilities and mistook him for some…Jedi. Someone who would offer her son a hope, a future beyond their borders.

Plagueis…was good at seeing through his Apprentice’s lies, and as the lies stacked, his indifference had turned more interested, particularly upon realizing the power within that little life. The midi-chlorians within were…interesting. Perhaps an example of the presence of Dathomir and the way prolonged exposure to the Dark Side could influence, and Plagueis made idle plans to see if he could gain a…specimen. This one, he thought, watching Sidious and the way he held that baby, would likely be off limits.

Sidious’ talk of training the boy, of seeing if he could be grown in the ways of the Sith had followed, and Plagueis found himself curious. Plagueis listened to the assurances that he would not be an Apprentice, of course, that their Rule of Two would be kept, and similarly that he would be used as an Assassin to go where they would not… But Plagueis had already decided he would agree.

The influence of the Sith upon what was already Dark and already Arcane would be potentially…

very…

worth…

seeing.

So, without thinking much of it beyond the purely scientific, beyond the application, Plagueis had agreed.

It was only later, seeing the babe in the care of a six-armed droid that held it, that Plagueis began to get the slightest pangs of foreboding.

By the time he realized he should have listened to these feelings…it was really rather too late.

Plagueis had visited next when the boy was three standard years of age, and what he had found… Was more distressing than it ought to have been.

Maul did not walk like a child, did not act like a child, did not even seem to _think_ like a child. His words were even and clipped, even as young as he was, there was no stutter, no stumbling…

The child was…unsettling, and the thought was laughed at, regardless of how true it was.

Even so, the boy was ultimately strong, Plagueis could see that, could see that Sidious had plumbed him since the very beginning for that strength, and those eyes burned with Dark… But Plagueis feared that it was a brittle strength. A strength that would crack and shatter… Plagueis had wondered idly how precisely this all had been done, wondered how Sidious had shaped this child that still had no name, and still had none of the markings he should…

And then he had seen the boy train.

Not simply physically, but the mental training…

And then the question of a _Hug_.

Plagueis did not consider himself a man who was easily moved. He performed countless experiments on sentients and non… But there was something about this unnerving child that stood too still and nodded as Sidious spoke of how a hug was a weakness… And Plagueis was suddenly given a reason for all of those bad feelings, for it seemed that in Sidious’ attempts to drive the ways of the Sith into this small Assassin…

Sidious was not giving the small body room and opportunity to develop in the other ways that were necessary.

It was creating a child that was ultimately too skewed to one side, an experiment with no control… There was danger in this path, and so Plagueis had thought to admonish his Apprentice.

Plagueis ultimately, though, had plans of his own to finish, and the two of them had much work to do. Plagueis still saw the future with Sidious by his side, and so he had not pushed too hard. He had trusted that Sidious would see the truth of his words and try to correct this…imbalance.

This then, was his second mistake.

Plagueis never made three, and so he had instead decided to finally…intervene. Though there was the question of when that intervention would come.

Learning that Sidious had thrown the boy upon the very surface of Mustafar with a broken arm that had not been set, and that the boy had still been given no name in the six years of his existence… Plagueis had thought this would be his moment. Instead…he had found that the child did not need his intervention. It was then that he saw the true power that had been given to him, and once again, that evidence of lack of balance.

The reliance on Hate was too strong…would make him strong but would give him a tenacity that made him reckless and eventually could be used to overtake him.

So, Plagueis had shielded himself, and watched for fifteen days as the little boy made his way back, only collapsing twice for sleep when his body could no longer take it.

Fifteen days. Two moments of collapse…

Plagueis had watched from a distance, taken in as the child was able to overpower the Droid, was able to make his way home at last…

Plagueis watched as Sidious greeted the boy, and finally gave him his name.

Maul. A worthy name…

For a Worthy Apprentice.

Plagueis thought of calling him on it then. Of destroying the title that was forming and making sure that Sidious could not think to usurp him… But ultimately, Plagueis had thought himself that the Rule of Two was meant to end with them. Why not with this one?

And too, there was another idea brewing, another thought that had yet to play out.

Plagueis in this moment…decided to talk to the boy… To _Maul_.

But Sidious had other plans yet, that apparently involved marking Maul in the way he had meant to be marked… Only, instead of the natural ichors of Dathomir and their magicks…

This was with Sith alchemy and Sith power. A mark of the caste he belonged to.

Plagueis watched as Maul was restrained, as needles were inserted into his skin that had been stripped bare outside of a cloth giving him the barest measure of modesty. The black that pooled was dark and blood-filled and Plagueis watched with something rising in the back of his throat as never once did that child open his lips to scream. Not even when Sidious had left him hanging there, the alchemy left to do its work.

Plagueis, in turn, got to his. Hooded and cloaked as he was, Plagueis was more a pillar of walking shadow and fabric than the Muun he actually was, something he thought might cause Maul to fear, but… Ultimately that would only be to his advantage. He needed for Maul to listen.

Maul sagged in his bonds, fallen into meditation, his body so still, his mind a roaring inferno that burned. And there, fresh before him, were all of the cracks that Sidious’ training had left, and Plagueis could see the full extent of what had been done.

Sidious had been too greedy, had not had the patience or the care to truly shift this child, had created something within him that Plagueis could see would only consume…

Plagueis gave a soft sound, drawing Maul’s attention up, and watched as burning eyes alighted upon him.

The way Maul attempted to reach out in the Force to hurt him was admirable, but the bonds around his wrists and ankles made such an attempt impossible, to keep him from lashing out against his Master, accidentally, of course. The Sith Alchemy involved in the marks that were covering him was… _deeply_ unpleasant.

“Relax, little Maul,” Plagueis said, keeping his voice rich and deep and gentle, watching as Maul blinked, those large eyes not quite in sync with each other, too weak, too hurt. Maul’s name off his tongue seemed to nonetheless breathe some measure of life back into the boy, and his look shifted from angry and fearful, to something more curious.

“My name,” the boy whispered in that too-cultured accent for that black-marked and bleeding face. “My name.”

“Yes,” Plagueis agreed. “Your Master awarded it today. I decided it was time that I met you.”

“Who…are you, sir?”

There were not many parts of Plagueis that were moved by the pitiful or the hurt. But the parts that were there tugged slightly at the sight of this child hanging suspended, asking a quiet question as though he was standing on his own two feet and looking up into his eyes.

“My name is Darth Plagueis,” Plagueis introduced. “I am your Master’s Master.

Maul’s eyes widened.

“He never mentioned me,” Plagueis stated softly.

“No, sir,” Maul agreed.

Plagueis nodded slowly and stood, moving over to the sink, and carefully filling a bowl full of water, putting a cloth in the water to soak, before coming back to the child. “Tell me, Maul, what do you think of your Master?”

Maul obviously did not know what to do with this question.

Maul also did not know how to take Plagueis ringing out the cloth carefully and slowly running it over the small face, cleaning away the blood and the lingering black.

The black did not need to absorb back into the system as was commonly thought, which meant that Plagueis was safe to both clean it away, and meant he could spend some time with Maul, to give him the comfort that he needed.

And plant the necessary seeds that could sprout into the beginnings of something…important.

Sidious may have intended for Maul’s hunger for contact and warmth to be something only utilized by him, but Plagueis was not above using a very convenient tool when it was left for him.

Maul closed his eyes as the fabric carefully dabbed against them, and they remained closed as Plagueis pulled away, almost instinctively tilting his head towards the feeling. Plagueis hushed him, gently dabbing at the boy’s templehorn, carefully collecting the blood and ink that was running towards his nose, repeating it for the other side. Plagueis would be using much water and taking a lot of time, but it was a necessity. The gentle dabbing of the cloth, interposed with the squeezing of it into the drain below for the blood and ink that would not return, and the resoaking of the cloth were the only sounds, before finally, softly…

“My Master makes me strong, sir,” Maul said, answering the question that Plagueis had let rest.

Plagueis found his head tilting up slightly, momentarily stuck between amazement and interest.

Well, well.

“And this, young Maul,” Plagueis said softly, “do you believe this will make you strong?”

Maul was quiet for a long moment before opening his eyes to stare at him. Those yellow eyes burned, red bleeding out from those irises as they stared at him, “Will it not?”

Plagueis felt the Force in the boy, felt the strength and the power, and felt those cracks widen. Plagueis smiled internally to a boy who could not see. “Yes,” Plagueis agreed. “The marks on your skin burn with Sith Alchemy, with power of a different sort. You may find that you have a little talent for it, young one. Your heritage is such that the more… _mystical_ arts will perhaps come more naturally.” Plagueis carefully ran the cloth around the bases of those horns, Maul closing his eyes, leaning into the touch instinctively. “Though…” Plagueis trailed off.

Maul opened his eyes after a moment, after Plagueis took his cloth back, after he once again squeezed it out into the drain. “Yes?” he asked.

“Though this is perhaps…not a power you will be taught. And you may find that your strength…will turn brittle.”

Maul took this in for a moment as Plagueis carefully wiped at his arms, at his chest. “I do not understand.”

Plagueis nodded, “Yes,” he agreed. “This is of course, the problem. Do you know why I am doing this?”

“You want something from me,” Maul answered.

“Ah,” Plagueis smiled, “and what precisely do I want? What do you believe you can give?”

“Whatever it is I will do as you ask.”

And that…was a loyalty that made Plagueis quite certain that Sidious was making a mistake.

“All I want from you,” Plagueis said softly, “is a conversation. A talk with my…ah, Grand-Apprentice as it were.”

Maul was quiet for a moment as Plagueis returned to wiping away the blood that was beading from the tattoos on his forehead, “What is a Grand-Apprentice?”

“A lineage,” Plagueis explained softly. “A line from me to you, a line that goes from us all the way back to the one that founded the Rule of Two. To Bane.”

Maul took this in, once again closing his eyes as Plagueis gently dabbed at his skin. “Is the conversation satisfactory?”

“Yes, Maul,” Plagueis smiled, “it is rather. But let us continue…”

“Very well.”

Plagueis found that smile widening. If nothing else, Plagueis had to admit that there was a certain level of fascination that came from watching a child behave nothing like a child should. He ran the cloth over his face again, watching as Maul leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping shut once again. This, though, was expected. You could not deprive a child of so much and foolishly believe that no one else would hit upon it. You could not remove a child’s basic needs and not expect for there to be consequence.

Those cracks, this slow shattering…

“Do you know what it is to be brittle?”

Maul was quiet for a long moment, “My arm is supposed to be brittle,” Maul said softly. “It was just reset and healed,” he explained, looking to it. “It means it is…easier to break?”

“Yes, that is a good definition, very clever.” Plagueis leaned back slightly, looking into his eyes. “Tell me, Maul,” he asked softly, “is this a reward or a punishment?”

Maul stared at him, those eyes blinking, lingering closed before he stubbornly opened them once again, licking the blood and ink from his lips and finally spitting it to the ground below. “Sorry,” he whispered. Plagueis waved a hand in open forgiveness. Maul remained quiet and still for a long moment, his eyes slipping closed, thinking clearly, and finally, softly, “My Master has claimed me as an Apprentice,” he said, “he has deemed me strong, and will only make me stronger. This then is a reward.”

Plagueis smiled. “More pain to draw upon,” he noted quietly, “more agony to fill your cup until it runneth over… Spilling upon everything around it. Tell me, Maul, are you sure that you can contain all that is being placed within that cup?”

Maul stared at him for a long moment before slowly shaking his head, “I do not understand. What is…what is the cup?”

“You,” Plagueis said softly, “your soul, your mind, your body, the sum-total of your existence, and in this case, what has been put in it. Tell me Maul, if I were to ask you what…ah, the purpose of a kiss was, or the embrace of another, what would you call them?”

Maul was quiet for a moment, those eyes blinking slowly, “Weakness,” he answered softly. “Signs of weakness for a people that do not understand true strength or power, that are afraid of being alone, and too weak to face the things that will ultimately make them strong on their own.”

Plagueis laughed, unable to help it, for a moment so caught up by the twisting of the mind before him that it sprung to his lips unbidden. Sidious truly had lived up to his name… Plagueis had chosen it well. “Maul,” he said softly, “if that were so, why would your Master indulge in either? Why would so many act upon them, and why would you lean into my touch as though you crave it…even though we both know that you _are_ strong?”

Maul stiffened, staring at him with eyes that were once again afraid and Plagueis hushed him.

“Your body is doing what it must, Maul,” Plagueis said gently. “This is not a weakness. This is, however, a point. You are loyal to your Master.”

“Yes,” Maul answered immediately.

“Then why does your Master create such an imbalance in you?”

Maul blinked.

“You cannot sustain on pure pain and hate, child,” Plagueis said, his voice gentle, soft. “You cannot sustain on a lack of touch. On a lack of compassion. Eventually, Maul, you will burn out, or worse, crack and shatter. Your Master, Maul, is making a grave mistake. And I must assume…he is doing it on purpose.”

There was a long pause, Maul watching him quietly, those eyes so wide, and Plagueis took a moment to once again dab at the ink and the blood gently, waiting patiently as Maul properly formulated his thoughts. Plagueis was patient. These were, after all, concepts that Maul would never have thought of before. The soil was ready, but it would take time to grow. Plagueis watered the seeds carefully with gentleness and care. 

“Why?” Maul asked softly after a long moment of silence.

“That is of course, the question is it not?” Plagueis smiled. “Why would he do something to you when you are loyal? Is it perhaps…accidental? Your Master is inexperienced and simply doing the best he can to create the proper Sith warrior, but making some truly devastating mistakes… Or, Maul, is he doing it because he is ultimately purposefully creating some…truly debilitating cracks in your mental fabric?”

Maul was quiet for a long moment. “I do not understand,” he whispered, “I am loyal…I…”

“You _love_ him,” Plagueis said softly, giving a word that the child needed to know. “You are _devoted_ to him. He is the man who has _raised_ you, who has made you strong. You would do _anything_ for him, would you not?”

“…Yes,” Maul whispered.

“Then why would he betray you?” Plagueis shook his head. “Truly, child, this is a question that I think you must ask. Though…unfortunately it is one that I am going to have to let simmer within you.”

Maul stared at him, “what do you mean?”

“I am sorry, Maul, that it must be this way,” Plagueis said, and found that a part of him meant it. “Your Master is meant to keep your status secret from me. And I believe ultimately that these fears I have are…unfounded, but nonetheless, should be acted upon.” Plagueis laced his fingers together, watching him quietly. “I am going to hide these memories from you, and ultimately your Master. If I am wrong and my worries are foundationally incorrect, then you can look back at these as the paranoia of an old fool who let his fear get the best of him. It happens among Sith often, and it is something that you will need to guard against, similarly to your overreliance upon Hate and Pain. There are more emotions to draw upon, more passions that you can use to create power. But…if I am correct…” Plagueis smiled. “It is always good to have a back up plan. And I believe that much of these… _imbalances_ can be…corrected.”

“But…” Maul swallowed, “what if you’re wrong? What if he…what if it is…accident and I am…and I am…”

“Child,” Plagueis said, and his voice was softer than it had yet been, reaching out with a gloved hand to stroke the face there so tenderly, feeling as Maul leaned against his touch, his eyes closed, nuzzling his face into his palm instinctively, unthinkingly, “if I am wrong, if these fears are unfounded…these imbalances can still be corrected. I will not leave you broken. You will stand beside us like you ought, and I will show your Master the true extent of his…oversight. Either way… you will come out of it whole. The only question is the number of us at the end.”

Maul opened his eyes when Plagueis drew away, almost frantically trying to bring his face back into that touch, pulling in ways he ought not. He slumped into his bonds with a bit-off sound of pain, trembling, and Plagueis shushed him. He ran his fingers against that head one more time, gave a quiet whisper of, “sleep, child,” and sent Maul off into a doze.

Plagueis sat there for a moment, drawing the Dark to him in preparation, centering himself, and reached into Maul’s mind, finding the memory, the imprint of himself, and slowly hiding it away.

By the end…it was like Plagueis had never been there.

Plagueis hid the evidence of his presence and took a singular sample of blood. Maul may be out of bounds for any particularly… _invasive_ experiments, but there was still much that blood could give him.

And if ultimately, Plagueis’ machinations granted a singular seed of insecurity, a fear of his position with his Master and a desperate need to prove himself…

Well.

It wasn’t that hard to call it _Pride_ and tie it to the mistakes that his Master had made in his training.

This was Sidious’ fault to begin with… It would simply be up to Plagueis to fix it.


	19. To Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons are taught Teacher to Student, and sometimes Student to Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey~ It's a longer chapter than usual, I actually wanted to make sure I got something finished in one go before I put it out there. I also am going to be starting my Masters up again in a week so the chapters are likely to slow down quite a bit once I get back in school... That said! I am super stoked about this chapter! I get to share a lot of headcanons and a lot of my own personal 'how do Sith work' examinations and it is something I am stupid-happy about I'm not even going to lie. All the terms utilized are found in the Wookieepedia article on Sith language, though none of them are used the way I use them here. ANYway! I have one: 
> 
> Warning: past child abuse is referenced.

Maul was buzzing.

A combination of utilizing the Force that had been kept away from him for so long, the ability to use muscles that had been underutilized in so long…

And for some reason…even the forehead pressed against his.

Maul did not understand.

Maul did not understand why they were giving so much to him. Not truly. He knew…and yet… And yet he could not shake the idea that they wanted…something from him. Nothing was for free. Nothing…nothing…

But there had been no punishment. But Maul had fixed what he had broken, and… Maul pulled away, suddenly overwhelmed. He burned as he should, his turmoil masked underneath the usual roaring. Maul did not know if they were fooled, but it had long pacified his Master. Yoda backed away as well, smiling at him in a way that suggested he had not picked up on it either, or perhaps was too polite to say he had.

Maul did not know. Jedi were strange and he felt as though he was still trying to piece everything together. Ultimately, however, he was… Maul was tired.

The realization came upon him all at once, feeling the slight drag on limbs that would not usually be so fatigued this early, but it had been… It had been so long.

So long…

There was a brief burst of frustration, but he shoved it down, bit it back. There was no use for it now. Maul did not think he wished to fight more Droids, though he would not mind…meditation, perhaps? And maybe…maybe…

Maul was suddenly finding himself with a desire for so much, but he was still limited, still shackled in a way, in some ways self-driven, but… Maul closed his eyes and took a beat longer than normal to open them. He was unsurprised when Yoda gave a soft hum.

“Long it has been and a great effort you have put in, expected tiredness is. A while it will take for your stamina to come back, but come back it will,” Yoda promised with a nod of his head. “Young _you_ still are,” Yoda said then, and the grin he gave him was warm and teasing and strange. The laughter that spread to the others caused Maul to duck his head.

Yoda was correct, Maul finally thought, and Maul took a breath, closing his eyes, and finally decided with a little nod, that it was reassurance enough. It was also correct. Now that Maul was able to utilize the Force within his cell, he would be able to work on regaining his stamina, work on building his strength and utilizing the muscles that had been so neglected. It was almost enough to make him look forward to returning to that cell.

Almost.

Maul was still so…bored of it, but he had hope… They had mentioned other cells. Perhaps…somewhere new would not be out of the picture?

Maul would wait.

Maul also became aware of…others approaching, more presences, more still pools… Maul did not know who they were, but his attention turned to the doors regardless. Though the more he thought of it the more his mouth twisted slightly.

Maul was Dark and had expended a lot of it, there was a likelihood it had caught attention. They would know to warn them that Maul would be training would they not? Was that not the point?

“Worry not,” Yoda said with a hum. “Know they do, expect they shall. Meditate would you like, here, or alone?”

Maul took in the question, before finally, “Here, please.”

“Cooldown from the exercise?” Plo asked, and Maul found his gaze shifting to him. Maul tilted his head slightly, before shaking his head.

“Reinforcement of it,” Maul answered. “Meditation is not usually a cooldown…stretching is.”

“That comes last then, I would assume,” Eeth said with a frown, “Training, reinforcement, and then the cooldown before your other duties.”

“Yes,” Maul agreed. He frowned. “Do I _have_ other duties?”

“The book you are still to read, when focus you can spare,” Yoda reminded, holding a finger up. “A deal we have made.”

“Yes,” Maul nodded, “and…the jahaal’got klesir…did I…did you?”

“It’s been well taken care of,” Tiq assured, smiling. “You will be able to get back to it without fear that anything has happened to it.”

“Thank you,” Maul said. “Is that all?”

There was a pause, and then Tiq nodded. “I believe it is best to start off slow. We will teach you, of course, but I do not wish to overwhelm you. You have been under extreme stress for a very long time, and to reburden you so quickly would be a mistake. I do wish to have that test relatively soon, though. In order to teach you properly we do need to know where you are at.”

Maul closed his eyes for a moment, taking that in, before finally nodding. It did make sense, after all, they did need to know how much he knew before they could actively work on teaching him these things, and Maul _did_ wish to learn. Though, Maul was admittedly still not interested in whatever punishment they would have for wrong answers. For whatever reason, the idea of _them_ causing him pain was not the same as the pain caused by his Master. For whatever reason, the thought of the necessary punishment for failure coming from someone like Tiq or Plo did not appeal. Though he supposed, if he asked, he would be more prepared for it and it would perhaps no longer matter. They had, after all, shown that Maul could ask these things… But Maul was ultimately uncertain…

“May I ask about the test, please?” Maul asked.

“Of course!” Tiq smiled, “I would not send you into this blind.”

Maul nodded slowly and finally, “What is the punishment for a wrong answer?”

Tiq blinked, and Maul was suddenly very aware of those still pools in a way he had not been before. Maul wondered if this, then, was the sign of an emotion. Though he did not say anything else and simply looked at them.

“Punishment?” Tiq asked, the word spoken a bit as though Tiq had never heard the word, his mouth forming it deliberately and forcefully, as though he had to make himself say it. “What do you mean punishment?”

Maul frowned. “My teaching was always timed, with a shock provided for a wrong answer, or one that took too long. I believe thirty seconds was the most…”

Tiq held a hand up, and Maul was very aware suddenly that that hand was shaking. “May I touch you?” he asked, and Maul hesitated before inclining his head slowly. That hand lowered onto his forearm, squeezing, and softly, “There is no punishment for wrong answers.”

Maul frowned. “How then do you learn?”

“Repetition,” Tiq answered swallowing, “and a point is removed from the total, and the wrong answer is marked, so we know that that is something we must work on. An electric…an electric shock is…how old were…?”

“For as long as I can remember,” Maul frowned.

Tiq took a breath before taking his fingers back and lacing them together. “How often was electricity used as a punishment or a motivator?”

Maul tilted his head. “Commonly. There were others, of course, but that was one of the main methods.”

“Were you…did you have ill effects?”

“Yes,” Maul answered. “But I was often given bacta infusions and there are techniques that can be done to lessen the effects on both nerve and muscle. Ultimately, my Master left the marks upon my skin as a reminder of the lessons…but the full consequences of them were never given. There is…” Maul’s mouth went temporarily dry and he closed his eyes, swallowing before quietly, “there is no use in a broken weapon.”

There was a very long pause and Maul was once again struck by the stillness of the pools that surrounded him. He did not know what any of them were thinking, did not know how to read them.

“Well,” Tiq said and clapped his hands together. “I have to say I think that might be one of the most appalling things I have ever heard.”

Maul tilted his head before sighing. “I did ask you if you thought you could hold it.”

“You did!” Tiq laughed aloud. “My oh my, did you ever. Alright. So, I know some of this is not going to make sense to you right now, but I promise that we will work on the things that you are confused by. Shall we call this a first lesson?”

Maul gave a half shrug, listening closely regardless.

“The first thing I want to make clear to you is that What Your Master Did To You Was _Wrong_.”

“Terrible, it was,” Yoda added, shaking his head.

“Disgusting,” Plo rumbled, his voice low. “An appalling thing to do to a child for what should be simple mistakes.”

“To train you with sticks and electricity,” Eeth had balled his hands into fists, shaking his head.

“It was cruelty,” Mace finished, his gaze so firm, locking his eyes to Maul’s.

Maul frowned slightly, his gaze shifting.

“I do not care that it may have been effective,” Tiq said then, and Maul blinked, looking up to him. “I know you did not recognize Ahsoka’s behavior as normal, but it is! It is, and for you to have behaved differently to that? Maul, there are absolutely some variations in temperament among children, absolutely. But I am getting the feeling that your Master saw any moments of childish glee, or even _upset_ as…” Tiq closed his eyes for a moment, “I have never once seen you cry.”

Maul’s frown deepened. “There is no point in crying.

“No!” Tiq immediately said, holding that same hand up again, though it did not touch him. “Absolutely not! There is absolutely a point to crying. It is your body releasing stress, releasing toxins, it is a necessary…” Tiq took a breath. “Your Master was…either lying or simply _wrong_ , do you…have you not…please, Maul, was that…was that one of the things you were punished for?”

“…Yes,” Maul answered after a beat of hesitation. “It may have been the first. I believe…I did not like the cold. The water was always cold and the room I was in was always cold and I would not stop crying.”

There was another long silence.

“Maul,” Tiq said very calmly, “I am going to introduce you to one of my later techniques that I utilize. Usually, I would wait to begin with this one, but I find that I cannot.”

“Yes? What is it?” Maul raised a brow, waiting.

“I cannot hate. I am a Jedi, and it is against my Code and it is against my Creed. _You_ , though, are quite able to hate, are you not?”

“Yes,” Maul answered. “It is one of the backbones of my Code and my Creed,” Maul smirked. “I’m rather good at it.”

Tiq gave him a smile, stiff and hard. “Excellent. I need you to hate your Master for me. If you were not Sith I would eventually work on helping you exorcise and purge those emotions from your system, but as you _are_ , I am going to be very selfish and tell you to hate him for me. I cannot, so it is up to you.”

Maul hummed, crossing his legs beneath him, and looking him in the eye. “How much, and in what way?”

“Oh, please,” Tiq said softly, “tell me the different ways to hate, I have to admit to being unaware there was more than one.”

Maul tilted his head slightly, noticing that the others had grown very silent and very still as well, and he had a moment when he was not sure how to handle the combined attention. He had the sudden realization that they were waiting for him to teach them. They were Masters of their Order…

Maul was a Lord in his, though…Maul had never taught before.

Maul took a breath and finally held a hand up level and flat with his head. “The weakest and yet the easiest to access is Nin. It is a sort of…petty hate, a level of dislike that comes easily and sharply and can be good for a boost, but it is foolish to rely upon it. It burns out too quickly and while it can be something knotted, or something that is tied up within you, it is nonetheless useless, too easy to lose, or to snap when it you truly draw upon it.”

Tiq had leaned forward, listening closely as he spoke, and thought, before finally shaking his head. “No,” he said finally, “I do not think that is deep enough. What is the next level?”

Maul brought his hand to his chest, holding it between his two hearts with his palm open as though cupping something in his hand. “Chwûq,” Maul answered, “this one remains as long as you cultivate it. You must feed it regularly, but so long as you tend to it, it will burn as long as you need it. It is…admittedly my preferred form. I have grown used to cultivating it. It is also something that can be easily stoked into further flame when necessary.”

Tiq nodded slowly, “I like that one, I think, but out of curiosity, are there others?”

“Just one,” Maul answered, and brought his hand even lower, balling it into a fist, resting it over his navel, “Wodza.” He frowned. “This one is the deepest and the blackest, but it is also the most dangerous. This is something you hate intrinsically, from the deepest parts of your being out, something that will burn no matter what and will never go out. It is a powerful thing, because it is in the deepest parts of your being, and because of this it is the easiest to get lost in. This can keep you alive after the gravest injury, but it comes with a price…”

“What is the price?”

“Your sanity,” Maul said. “Wodza eats you alive, even as it allows you to live. Often your sanity is the first to break because to hate something so intrinsically, to hate it from the deepest parts of your being, ultimately means that it is something that you cannot let go of. Your every thought turns upon this thing that you hate, and ultimately it twists you into something that only knows this hatred and nothing else. It is for this reason that Wodza is not _utilized_ often. Darth Sion was a Master of the technique, to be sure, but there are very few that can achieve that level again. Too much was lost to us both through in-fighting and…well.” The Jedi involvement in the destruction of Sith culture went unspoken. They had the awareness to look contrite, even as they visibly thought. 

“Well,” Tiq frowned. “I think I will go with Chwûq, since I do not want it to be something petty, and similarly I do not think I like the idea of it being something that can drive you to further ruin. I also like the idea of cultivating it, honestly. It means that as you learn more of what he did to you, you can add to it, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Maul inclined his head. “The more I learn the more potent it becomes.”

“Therefore, making you stronger and giving you more understanding and more tools,” Tiq nodded. “Yes, very well. I would like for you to utilize Chwûq. How would you go about this?”

Maul frowned slightly, looking down as he realized the question was not something he knew how to answer immediately. He had not thought about the process for a long time. “Apologies, I am not used to explaining this,” he said after he feared the silence had gone on too long.

“Take your time,” Plo said waving a hand. “You have been doing this for so long it must come without thought.”

“Yes,” Maul nodded. “I am not accustomed to teaching.”

“Somewhere we all must start,” Yoda smiled.

Maul gave a slow incline of his head, thinking. “Chwûq begins with Nin,” he said after a moment, working through the process in his head that had become so second nature he barely noticed it. “It begins with something you _know_ , which yu then begin to slowly bring into your chest, into your…core, I believe. It is not your hearts, because that is not deep enough, and similarly it is not your gut. The gut is where it turns to bile which can be poison, which is a way to think of Wodza, I believe.”

“I see!” Eeth said then, with a nod, the others forming a similar motion. “So, if you were to begin to…ah…Chwûq is ember, is it not?”

“Yes,” Maul gave an incline of his head. “Nin is knot or tie, Chwûq is ember, Wodza is intestines in the Sith tongue. I do often think of Chwûq as a fire. It must be tended and stoked, but all Embers start with the smallest licks of flame.”

“That is _fascinating_ ,” Tiq said after a long moment. “Utterly fascinating. I never would have…where does Passion fit in? Is it a part of Hate, or is it different?”

“Passion can be many things,” Maul answered with a shake of his head. “Passion absolutely _can_ be Hate, but it is more an umbrella term, I believe. It can be a mix of many other things, or just the one. Passion is more…something that is felt strongly, I believe. But it is not enough just to _feel_ it. It is something that has to be _fought_ for, something that must be _sustained_. Shâsot is Passion, yes, but it is also _Struggle_. It is not easy. A Fallen Jedi may be able to find their way to Nin, and may even tangle themselves up within that, which leads to a cultivation, which leads to Chwûq…but it is a very rare one that can create and sustain Wodza, and ultimately finds itself burning out. Wodza is dangerous, yes, but it is also integral for the Sith because if it is not there then ultimately even Chwûq will fade out as soon as the cultivation stops.”

“So, you _do_ use Wodza!” Tiq said, “I had thought you did not!”

“Forgive me,” Maul shook his head, “I said that it can be dangerous, and that it can be poison, not that it intrinsically is. Ultimately the bile is needed for digestion is it not?”

“Ha, so it is!”

Maul found his mouth twitching.

“If…it is not too personal, what…do you use for Wodza.”

Maul blinked before his mouth twisted into a grimace and with a low grumble, “I have been forced to find another one. My original has become…unsustainable.”

“If you say it was the Jedi I will not be offended, I promise,” Plo said.

Maul sighed.

“Well! If nothing else I am actually rather glad to hear you say that it has become unsustainable! Does that mean it is gone?”

Maul wrinkled his nose. “No,” he said, “giving up something like that would be foolish. It is now Nin.”

The burst of laughter was warm and full, and Maul was momentarily startled to hear it. 

“Oh, I have never been happier to hear something called _Petty_!” Eeth laughed aloud.

Maul sneered but said nothing against it. There were things that he could tangle within it, but pettiness was probably the best way to describe it at the moment. Maul had not met enough Jedi for it to slide towards anything else, not yet.

“Do you have anything you are _considering_ for Wodza?” Mace asked.

Maul frowned. “Wodza needs to be immediate, something that comes with a thought, a concept that causes disgust in the deepest part of your being without the need for cultivation. Jedi…control these emotions, correct, you are familiar with the idea of them, it is merely flowing it out of you, I am not speaking of something you have no concept of?”

“That…is a good way to explain that, yes,” Mace nodded slowly. “We can follow the concept, yes, but it is not allowing them to settle.”

“We take the emotion and feed it into the Force,” Eeth said, “it is not clung to in the way you speak of, these emotions are instead let go of.”

Maul nodded slowly, “Wodza would be impossible to flow out, or let go of, I _believe_ , which is why I cannot use the Jedi as I had been doing, because in a lot of ways I…did let it go…” Maul frowned, his brows pinching as he tried to explain. “That hate is not _intrinsic_ anymore, it is…no longer something that if I were to cut it out, I would no longer be me.” Maul thought for a long moment. “I had thought it was. I am…grateful that it is not.” Maul’s head bowed slowly.

“Would word association help you find something else?” Tiq asked, frowning.

“Apologies, I am unfamiliar with the concept.”

“I say a word, and you say one that comes immediately to mind,” Tiq answered, “For instance I say Jedi you say…”

“Fallacy.” Maul blinked, frowned, “I do not like this.”

Tiq laughed aloud, shortly joined by the rest of them, another warm and amused sound. “Well! I am learning that there have been more fallacies about the Sith than I realized, so, perhaps it is not entirely inaccurate. I admit that that was a very cheap shot and more for my own entertainment.”

“Ah,” Maul hummed, “and now _you_ are petty.”

There was another laugh, another burst of amusement that rose between them.

“Would you let me try again?”

Maul hesitated, before shaking his head. “I do not think so. Not here.”

Tiq tilted his head up slowly before nodding. “Of course, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

Maul sighed. “It is difficult,” he said after a moment. “Wodza is a bit harder to come upon than you would think it would be. There are so many different things to hate and some things that may seem like they can be brought into the gut and left there are often merely Chwûqut that have grown so strong they seem like Wodza, but they are ultimately something that started as Nin and are therefore not viable.”

“Frankly, a lot of the Sith arts seem as though they are a lot harder than I thought they were,” Mace said finally with a raise of a brow. “You called my phraseology of a ‘fit of passion’ a Jedi Fallacy before. I think I now understand why. None of it is a _fit_ , is it? Even Nin, which can have the benefit of a burst of power, is not ultimately a fit, so much as it is a spark.”

“Yes,” Maul said and straightened, briefly proud of the fact that Mace had recognized the mistake. “The Sith arts are not easy. There is so much control necessary and it is very easy to slip. Part of the reason I was so displeased with my performance earlier is because my Chwûq has become…much stronger than I was prepared for, than I am _used_ to, and so I found myself struggling to pull out of it when it threatened to burn too brightly. There has been so much Hate added to me.” He rubbed at the skin around his forehorn, frustrated momentarily. 

“And none of it is Wodza,” Tiq sighed. “You cannot use your Master?”

Maul hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. “I hesitated. No.”

“Intrinsic.”

“Yes,” Maul nodded.

“But there is… _something_ about what your Master did that you hate.”

Maul took that in for a moment before finally giving a slow nod. “Yes,” he said finally. And there _was_ something. Something that burned and Maul had not thought of prodding, had not thought of examining that tangle, and once again he thought of that _fear_. He thought of that…

The sudden burst and rolling heat and rage within him was so strong for a moment he nearly lost control of it.

Maul bit it back, swallowed it down, held it there, held it, brought a closed fist to his stomach, breathed in, and held his breath, closing his eyes and slowly bringing his forehead to the ground, binding, binding.

There was an irony in it all. An irony in that the motions necessary were ultimately the thing that he hated so much. He hated he hated, he _burned_.

This…was deeper and stronger than Maul thought even the hatred of the Jedi had been. Something that was both Core of his being and leeching into the petty. The fact that he even hated the necessary steps to bind it…

Maul laughed.

He had found it and once he had it was obvious.

“Chains,” Maul managed, the word a hiss between his teeth. “Wodza nuyak itsu. A moment, please,” he whispered, and he felt the still pools retreat, not just in proximity but also pulling back, away, giving him a beat to focus, to burn.

Maul concentrated on it deeply, breathing through it, feeling the way it rose up as he stoked it, dangerous and burning, and he would have to _work_ at this. He would have to fight it. It was definitely stronger than he was used to, and he had spent so much time… But ultimately, had not the hatred of the Jedi been something put there by his Master?

The Hatred had not been him…

This…this was _him_.

Maul breathed, slowly carefully leashing it, tying it down where it would not burn and rage out of control, where he could keep it within his gut to call upon it when needed… Maul would be strong.

Maul would Break Chains and the realization burned within him, a powerful burst of amusement and realization that was enough to help him lock his Wodza in place, enough to help him Control.

And control was so important, was so integral.

Maul tested it again, slowly shifting that realization, that _promise_ atop it, lining it to keep the bile within where it would not eat him alive. Maul had so much to do first. He had so many things to do and to learn and he was given the _opportunity_ …

 _They_ even cared enough to _learn_ …

Maul pressed against it, checking, checking…

It was there, burning and raging just below the surface, something that would come as soon as it was called, but… But for now, it was bound, and Maul was Master of it.

That petty amusement rose up again, twisting his lips in a sneer that was unseen by anyone but felt by himself, and finally breathed out.

Maul was aware that his limbs had a fine tremble to them, his hearts racing within his chest and his breath slowly beginning to even out now that he could calm the beating of his hearts. Maul was aware of the cold sweat that had broken up along his spine, the feeling similar to vomiting, but Maul was deeply, _intrinsically_ satisfied.

Maul had found it.

Maul had controlled it.

Maul was Sith and he would not be bound again.

Well, he thought with some amusement, looking to the collar that was near him. He would not be bound unless he let himself be. And Maul had plenty of reason. He wondered if they would catch onto that, would recognize what he was giving them that he would let them do this to him…

Maul slowly breathed deep, held it, and then breathed it out very slowly, rising up to his knees, releasing his hand from its fist and spreading the fingers out, before opening his eyes.

He burned.

It was _good_.

“Do you need something?” Mace asked him, staring at him. “Is there a ritual that we can help facilitate?”

Maul…had not been expecting that, and he found that rise of something deep in his chest and… “Fasting,” he said, licking his lips, “ten days and nights which are spent in near exclusive meditation. There is no sleep. The Dark sustains.”

“Afterwards?”

Maul hesitated. “Usually there is a hunt. Ritualistic sacrifice. As I am carnivorous the fast is broken with that animal, whatever it is. There is a cleaning ritual performed, the bones are burned, and I am complete.” 

“Does the animal matter?”

“No,” Maul answered with a shake of his head.

“Do you have a preference?”

Maul blinked. “…I…are you…?”

“I don’t see a reason we can’t facilitate this,” Mace said, looking to the others. “It’s an important part of your culture and you are not harming anything… Though perhaps yourself. Are we allowed to be near you, or is solitude preferred?”

“You…” Maul hesitated. “I will burn. It will be strong. I must work through my Chwûq before I can begin to look at my Wodza, but if you can stand to be around this, solitude is not necessary. There will be periods of time when I do not have to focus on meditation, I will be able to talk.”

“When do you need to begin?”

“As…” Maul swallowed, “as soon as I can.”

“What would you like to hunt? We have a butchery, but there is also a spot for the livestock where you can hunt them. They are given a very good life.”

Maul gave a slow nod. That was good. That was…that was good. A sacrifice ultimately did need to be clean.

Maul was having difficulty focusing; however, the heat was beginning to rise, and he shook his head. “Back, please…”

There was a moment when they looked at the collar, and then Eeth frowned, taking it in his hands and looking to the Guards. “We’ll walk him down together. I feel like…” Eeth trailed off, looking at him for a moment. “My chambers are closest, and I have an attached Padawan suite. We can take him there. You did not mention that the meditation was a _need_.”

“I have not burned like this,” Maul said, and he found that it was very true.

“Are you alright staying with me?” Eeth asked, and he was close suddenly, standing before him, and Maul fought through the rising haze to look him in the eye and after a moment when he thought… 

Maul thought of the gentleness of fingers peeling off the keratin after they were filed through, thought of the soft warmth, and the knowledge given without any trick, the quiet strength and slowly, carefully nodded.

Eeth smiled at him. Yoda cleared his throat and Maul looked down at him.

“Your shoulder, may I ride?” he asked and Maul blinked, taking this in, and decided immediately that this was likely some way to help reassure the other Jedi that Maul was safe…That he would not hurt…

Maul nodded, and Yoda gave a warm hum, carefully leaping into position before Maul could begin to try and think of the logistics of it. Yoda perched there easily, and his warm presence, that cool pool…was a better brace than Maul thought it would be.

They walked out together, and not a single one made a move to collar him, simply taking him into Eeth’s quarters.

They were…very bare, which Maul figured must make sense for a Jedi, but it was still a bit of a surprise. They took him to the Padawan suite, which was cold and dark as it had not been in use for a very long time, Eeth turning the lights on and going to raise the temperature, but Maul shook his head.

“Leave it,” he said roughly, “it will help balance the burn.”

Eeth inclined his head, Maul walked into the middle of the suite, Yoda removed himself from his shoulder and walked to the other Jedi, and Maul closed his eyes, fell into his preferred lotus position…

And burned.

* * *

Day 1

Eeth was amazed.

When he had started this day, he had never thought it would begin with a truly admirable demonstration of Sith prowess, an explanation of Hatred and the uses of it… Eeth would never have _guessed_. He had never thought that so much of the Sith would be focused on _Control_ , that there would be a ritual and…

Maul’s aura flashed, sparking briefly, and Eeth watched as Maul breathed in, his closed fists in-line with his navel, and slowly breathed out, the sparks dimming, his hands opening in time with his breath.

There was something almost Jedi-like in that control, something almost…

Eeth noticed Tiq had sat down, a datapad opened as he scrawled down several notes, the Rodian’s eyes sparking with delight.

“Fascinating,” he heard Tiq mumble, “Nin…Ch…does anyone know how to spell the second one?”

“C-H-W-Û-Q,” Yoda spelled, “circumflex over the U there is. N-I-N, and W-O-D-Z-A are the other spellings.”

“Nin is knot, Chwûq is ember, and Wodza is intestines…” Tiq laughed aloud, “incredible, _intestines_ , I would have never…” he went back to mumbling to himself quietly before really focusing on writing again.

Eeth frankly felt much the same. That was so much knowledge that he had given them, things that Eeth would have never even guessed at. To have that many terms for Hate, he had to wonder…

Chains.

Maul hated chains, from the deepest part of his being out.

Eeth wanted to laugh. It was…it was frankly the best thing for him to hate. There were so many good things that could come of… They had been working on trying to make Maul understand that he the way he had been trained may not be the proper way. It seemed that Maul had made his own breakthroughs, found his own methods, and this… This was delightful in many ways.

There was another spark, another flare, those hands once again fisting, a breath once again taken, and Tiq looked up.

“Two minutes…” he mumbled, making a note, before going back to his scribblings.

There were so many questions. So many things to ask and work out. As it was, they spent a little longer watching to make sure that Maul was alright and that he seemed to be comfortable, and then they left, closing the door behind them.

“I think…” Eeth said softly, “we should bring some of his things. The plant, that oil I got him…he does not need the timepiece as there is one here, but maybe the book, if only to give him the opportunity should he be able to later.”

“A good idea this is. A change of clothes we shall also bring.”

“I have his tunic,” Plo said, laying it out on the chair, ready for when Maul would claim it. “That was…utterly fascinating. You have done research into the Sith, have you not?” he asked, looking to Mace and Yoda both. “Were either of you aware of these things?

“Scattered much of the Sith histories are. Possible it is that much are passed in oral traditions, Master to Apprentice.”

“I have never read anything about what Maul was speaking of,” Mace agreed. “And that was just on _Hate_.” He shook his head. “I’ve never been more aware of how little I know about something,” he grinned, “it’s a good feeling.”

“I wonder what else he has to teach us,” Plo frowned, “if he will. I admit to being very curious. We have often spoken of teaching him, and he is very willing to learn, it may be good to return the favor if only to prove that we give value to his words.”

“I do like that,” Tiq called out, looking up from his datapad for a moment. “The one thing we need to show is the fact that we listen to him.” Tiq shook his head. “The fact that he’s found that the hatred of chains is so intrinsic to him…I worry a bit about the collar. We may need to find if we can get rid of it entirely…”

“Let’s talk to him first,” Mace said.

“It was his decision to wear it,” Plo reminded softly. “He wished to not be a threat to us, and he thought he still might be.”

Tiq grumbled quietly. “I do not _like_ it,” he said finally, putting the datapad down for a moment, staring at all of them with his eyes so pointed and sharp. “I understand why it is perhaps necessary in the same way that he does, but the difference is, I also understand what it can do to the psyche. So much of Maul has already been bound before. I am unsurprised that he has found that his intrinsic hate is…” Tiq looked to the time as another spark flared and frowned. “That is nowhere near two minutes,” he mumbled. “I believe he is reacting to something internal…” he jotted that down. “Does anyone know how Sith meditation works?”

“No,” Mace answered with a brief shake of his head that was copied.

“Ask how Sith Meditation Works…” he grumbled quietly, typing it out on the datapad. “Anyway! I am unsurprised that his intrinsic hate is the idea of being chained. He has been chained his entire Life, even when he did not know, subconsciously… And that collar.” Tiq’s mouth twisted into a frown. “He is a _Nightbrother_. I do not…I do not like the implications of it on him. I know that it was the best option for comfort, ease of access, and the fact that it could be removed so quickly, but it is a _collar_. There is so much of me that thinks that it can only be a further scar on an already stressed psyche, even if he isn’t aware of it.”

There was a pause and then Plo made a rough sound, his hands over his face. “I had not even thought about it.”

“I know, and I do not blame a one of you, because I know if you thought of it you would never have placed it,” Tiq said with a frown. “But that…does _not_ remove the potential, and I swear I would tell him to hate that collar for me if it was not likely he already did.” Tiq’s mouth twisted, his fingers briefly tightening on his datapad. “He is not a _pet_. He has made his agreements and stated that he is fine with being locked within it, but…it is nonetheless a symbol of something _I do not want_ around his neck. I believe that he has already been told repeatedly that he should not indulge in certain…instincts, though this is merely suspect at this point.”

Eeth breathed in and breathed out. “I believe so as well,” he stated finally. “The fact that it seems the things that he does not understand or know about his own body are directly interlinked with his being Zabrak? I have little doubt that he was trained in such a way to completely neglect all of those urges, all of those things that he should know. I have not asked him about some of these things yet. I am not braced enough for the possibility he will tell me that he is above those urges.”

Eeth watched as Plo gave a brief shudder and sighed, before Plo turned, looking towards that room, and looking back to Eeth.

“That is going to be very hard to meditate with.”

“Free you are to come to my rooms,” Yoda said, “if a respite you need.”

“Agreed,” came the brief chorus.

“We’ll meditate together,” Mace said. “I suppose the question of what Sith meditation _feels_ like has been answered at this point.”

“Thank you,” Eeth said, taking a breath. “Force knows I will absolutely need it. That is _strong_.”

“Do you believe it will remain like that every time the collar is off?”

“I suppose we will see,” Mace said, “but I do not believe so.”

“I do not either,” Tiq noted. “Do you remember what he said about control?” Tiq was beaming. “I think we’re going to find ourselves with quite a bit of knowledge about how a Sith works by the end of this, and precisely what a Sith means when he says ‘control.’”

Much to think about… Much to see.

This…was certainly very interesting.

* * *

Day 2

Plo was with Eeth on the second day when Maul finally came out of his prolonged meditation with a gasp that they heard from the main living space. Plo looked up from his book, his attention turning to the door that after a brief moment finally swung open, Maul taking a few steps out. He squinted at the light, but his attention soon turned to both Plo and Eeth, his expression softening at the edges. Either way, he remained there for a moment, looking temporarily suspended, a bit like he was not sure how to proceed.

It was a fair concern. Plo immediately cleared his throat in a way he did not need, drawing Maul’s attention to him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“It is Shâsot,” Maul said, which…rather explained it, he thought, finally unlocking, and taking a step towards them. “But I am well… Your refresher…?”

“There,” Eeth said immediately, pointing to it. Maul dipped his head in thanks. He looked at the change of clothes they had brought him and put on the table and took them with a quiet thanks. Maul came out of the refresher a few minutes later, still without the tunic, water beading on his skin. He did not step closer to them, instead rubbing at his forehead.

“Are you perhaps a danger if you lose control?”

Maul opened his eyes then, and that red had bled further, a red that was threatening his iris. “ _I will not lose control_.” There was promise and death and dark within those words, Maul’s expression black with it. “The only issue is the heat,” he said finally, relaxing slowly. “I burn and I suppose…feverish is the word I could use. I am no danger to you. I will not be.” The quiet promise in that last phrase hung in the air around them, and Maul swallowed dryly, before looking to the Padawan suite. “I must go back, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eeth said softly. “May the Force be with you.”

Maul inclined his head and walked back into the suite.

The door closed again.

* * *

Day 3

Yaddle had long wanted to be able to talk to the other boy in their care, having spent a good deal of time with the young one when he was in his fugue. Yaddle was known to have one of the most calming presences among the Jedi, and whenever she had been present with him, Maul had seemed to, if not come back, at least relax. Yaddle had been frustrated with herself that this had been her first real interaction with him, when he had been completely unable to care enough to process, and had promised herself, before releasing that frustration to the Force, that she would be much more involved.

From what she had heard, Maul needed all of the people in his corner that he could get, and it was becoming much easier to want to be in that corner. Yaddle grew more certain by the day that the Force truly had called for them to spare him, and similarly that he was meant to be here. That they were meant to help him.

Yaddle had listened to the explanations that they had brought of what Hate was, of how it worked with the Sith and had been amazed. She still thought that it would be better to remove that hate from him, but they had promised that Maul would be able to make a choice, and so far, that choice seemed to be very focused on remaining Sith, and yet… Not their enemy.

Yaddle was old, she had seen much…

Never before would she have thought she would see _this_.

Never before would she have thought that she would _feel_ this.

To be able to meditate amongst her fellow Council Members Yoda and Eeth to help balance Eeth’s living space and his own patterns, while something burned so brightly and so strongly next to them…

It was strange. Something that less than a year ago would have been thought of as impossible, as a direct threat that they needed to stop, instead being something that they were helping to grow and flourish? Yaddle smiled, shaking her head at the thought of the young man that needed their help.

There were so many possibilities, so many ways this could go. Either way, Yaddle was pleased that Maul was amongst them, if only for the challenge that he had been to them, for the shakeup he had caused.

To be Dark and not their enemy…

There was a deep understanding, though, that this was likely not something any of them could shift to. Even with a new understanding of the Sith terminology, even with the knowledge of the fact that Maul did not see them as an enemy… It seemed like it would still be a danger for any Jedi.

More questions would be asked.

More understanding would be gained.

This, at least, Yaddle looked forward to without reservation.

The burning was dwindling, not completely dying out, but certainly fading, and Yaddle slowly broke from her thoughts to turn her gaze to the door.

There were a few beats of silence, a soft huff of breath, and the sound of someone standing, a few staggering steps made towards the door. Yaddle could hear all of this, the sound of the two-beat hearts that drummed in that chest, their beating slowly regulating, and finally she heard the sound of that form leaning against the door for a moment, breathing, breathing, and then straightening, palming the sensor to open it.

The door slid open, Maul revealed leaning against the side of it, that gaze that was all fire and heat, that red and burning yellow that Yaddle had not seen before flickering towards Eeth, and then…shifting down to Yoda, and then sliding over towards her.

Those brows pinched slightly as he stared at her, his gaze trailing along her ears, to her hair, and then down, and then back up again, before flicking over to stare at Yoda.

There was a beat.

Maul closed the door.

Yoda began cackling.

Yaddle could hear that form begin banging his head against the door repeatedly and Yaddle couldn’t help her own laughter, though she could not contain the soft, “More care you must take, Lord Maul,” that left her lips, amusement tinging it. “Your head, much trauma done to it already. More you likely cannot take.”

There was a pause.

The door opened and a single red-and-yellow eye glared out at her from where he had positioned himself to the side of the door. “My head is _built_ for blunt-force trauma, thank you. It’s the rest of this that I can’t take.”

Yaddle wheezed. Eeth and Yoda both fell into it, Yoda holding his heart and Eeth bending to press his horns to the carpet like a felled tree, absolutely cackling. Yaddle laughed until she cried and then could not help but smile at the boy who was slowly allowing himself to slide out from where he had partially hidden himself.

Tat gaze drifted over them again, and Yaddle felt that strange Dark presence brush against hers, but there was no hostility. It was an odd sensation, but her smile did not falter, and her warmth did not sway, recognizing it for the curious gesture it was, the complete lack of hostility within it. She wiped her tears away gently, her smile widening as he finally took a step towards them, and his gaze finally lingered on her again.

“I know you,” he said then, the words soft, staring at her. “I felt…I felt you, when I was…lost.”

Yaddle’s smile gentled and she gave him a nod. “There I was, glad I am that found you were.” Her smile warmed as he gave a faltering sort of

nod, tilting his head as he stared at her. Yaddle wondered a bit what he was thinking but did not pry. “Yaddle my name is.”

“Yaddle,” Maul repeated with a nod of his head. “Thank you.”

Yaddle gave him a nod in return, “My pleasure it was, Lord Maul. Happy I am that here you are. Well, your meditation goes?”

“Yes,” Maul answered after a beat. “It is…difficult. I am always burning. But it is…it is good. I am gaining control…” he took a breath. “There is so much.”

“Chwûq?”

“Yes,” Maul nodded. “I have much to learn how to hate before I can turn my meditation to that which is deepest. Will you tell Tiq that I am working on his request, please?”

“Absolutely,” Eeth said with a nod. “He was just in here, but he had to leave for a break.”

Maul inclined his head slowly. “Will you tell him he does not have to expend too much energy upon my care? This…is not like the last time.”

“Tell him not to worry we will,” Yoda promised with a nod, her counterpart giving a teasing and gentle smile towards Maul.

Maul tilted his head slightly, “worry,” he repeated in a way that suggested he was unfamiliar with it, but before they could say anything, there was a further spark of heat. Maul closed his eyes, took a breath, and gave them a brief bow, before he palmed the door closed once again.

Yaddle gave a soft hum her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. There was a pause before finally, Yaddle turned to the others. “Understand, I do,” she said softly, “why delightful you find him. Pleased I am that we listened to the Force,” she hummed, “that he lives and is here, a blessing it will be.”

Yoda inclined his head with a smile. “Agree, I do.”

Yaddle took a breath, and centered herself in meditation, falling alongside the other two.

Delightful he might be, but his presence was definitely rather strong.

Something to get used to, perhaps.

Something to learn.

* * *

Day 4

Saesee Tiin sat with Even Piell, Tiq, Yoda, Yaddle, Plo, and Eeth, all of them drifting in and out of meditation.

Maul’s last dip into anger had lasted for a very long time, so long that Eeth had walked right out of his rooms, walked past the Guards with a brief salute, and kept going right into Yoda’s room. Saesee only heard of it through the grapevine and had seen a glimpse of Eeth as he walked past him. He’d been very quick to offer his services when they had pooled, and he rather understood why now that he was here.

It felt a bit like sitting next to a pool of lava.

It warmed and it flowed. There were moments when it erupted into miasma and then slowly cooled down, but it never stopped burning. It was unsettling, but the lava felt a bit like it was finally cooling, like the eruptions had slowly faded, and finally, finally, smoke.

There was a shuddering gasp, and the heat pulled inwards as much as it could, before stopping. Saesee felt that heat slowly, _slowly_ creep towards them, completely docile, as gentle and flitting as a warm breeze.

Saesee had not thought that would be possible, but Maul had talked about control with them, and it seemed that he had wrestled something down. As it was, Saesee gently reached out to that presence, letting it brush against him, feeling it hesitate for a moment, not quite recoiling, before thoughtfully returning, and then slipping away. Saesee felt the others reach as well, and finally it pulled back, pulling inward, and there was the sound of shuffling, a body leaning against the wall, a deep breath, and Maul palmed the door open.

The singular eye that he could see, Maul having leaned out just slightly to peer beyond the edge of the door, was bloodshot, the red that encased the iris seeming to spread out to the rest of the eye. Fever, was Saesee’s first thought, fever and lack of sleep, one of which was very true, but as he took in the sweat that beaded on that forehead he thought that it might actually be true about the fever as well.

The Dark sustained; Maul had told the others. It did not look like it healed.

Maul hesitated at the door, all lanky teenager that wasn’t entirely certain whether or not to come out in a way that he had not expected.

Though, Saesee could understand, it was a great deal more Jedi than Maul had ever been around before he had fallen into his own mind. Saesee had been with him during that time as well, though Maul had never reacted, perhaps understandably.

He had not had an opportunity to meet him due to his own hesitance and then bad timing.

Maul hesitated for a moment longer before finally stepping out, giving a brief nod to them, before tilting his head towards the refresher, walking towards it. Perfectly understandable really

They returned to meditation, and a few minutes later Maul finally appeared again. Maul teetered slightly, before finally walking towards them deliberately. He still looked a bit sick, but it was obvious he’d taken the time to run likely cold water over himself, holding a towel hesitantly. Eeth kindly took it from him and put it where it needed to go when he held it out, before gesturing to an open chair.

“Do you have a moment?”

Maul closed his eyes, his attention turning inwards, before finally sinking down into it. He watched them closely, those feverish eyes darting carefully amongst them, and Saesee kept himself deliberately calm. They weren’t trying to threaten him, not at all.

Maul finally looked directly to him and his gaze was strangely unnerving in a way he hadn’t expected when it landed on him. Saesee thought it might be those Sith eyes combined with that feel, but there was still no threat in the Dark.

“I do not know you,” he finally said softly, frowning.

“Saesee Tiin,” he introduced with a nod of his head, and Maul returned it slowly. “Tiin or Saesee is fine, Darth Maul.”

“Tiin,” Maul repeated softly and turned his attention to Even, looking at him. “I do remember you…”

“I was there before…” Even trailed off and Maul inclined his head slowly.

“Yes,” Maul frowned. “Even, yes?”

“That is correct, Darth Maul.” Even grinned, “It is good to see you again. How goes your meditation?”

“Better,” he answered after a brief pause, and he relaxed fully back into the seat, almost a bit like he could no longer hold himself so rigid. There was a level of trust in that movement that Saesee saw the others recognize. “I am managing to condense it. There’s been so much it’s been difficult to focus.”

“Oh!” Tiq called out, and Saesee watched Maul’s eyes dart to him, but there was no . “Apologies,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I had been meaning to ask, how does Sith Meditation work? What precisely are you attempting to do? You mentioned that it was not a cooldown, it was a reinforcement…”

“Yes,” Maul answered. “It is…” Maul hesitated, shifting slightly, “taking an emotion, in my current case that emotion is Hate, though it does not have to be. Usually, it would be a simple matter of holding onto that specific emotion and stoking it higher until it is omnipresent. It is a reminder of why you…hate or fear something, driving it deeper until it can be called upon without hesitation.”

“Does it have to be Hate or Fear?” Tiq asked.

“Positive emotions, warm emotions,” Yaddle said softly, “used can they be?”

Maul was quiet for a moment, his fingers lacing together, a hesitance and a…

Saesee wondered at that hesitance.

“I am afraid I cannot answer that question with any level of expertise… I have never been given opportunity to try,” he said finally, the words as clear as they were quiet.

There was silence.

Silence and they stared and…

“Is that because your Master…did not wish you to?”

Maul’s mouth twisted slowly, teeth baring and then with a brief shrug, “I do not know that I have one that is strong enough to focus upon wholly. The emotion must be pure if I am to use it as an anchor and I…cannot think of one.”

That silence turned somehow loud.

To have no…to have no memories of happiness…of warmth of… To not have a single _pure_ memory of warmth to draw upon?

Maul was young but he was not _that_ young, he was not… This was not something that Saesee had thought he would be hearing.

As the silence stretched, Maul looked up at them, that Dark reaching out, quizzically, uncertain… “Was I unclear?”

“Understand I believe we do,” Yaddle said softly. “Wish otherwise I _also_ believe we do.”

Maul hesitated, frowning. “Why?”

“Deserved better you did,” Yoda said his words equally soft, his gaze gentle.

Maul’s expression shifted and for just a moment he looked a bit like he had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders, slumping deeper into the seat and finally, quietly, “this is another oddity then.”

“Oddity?” Tiq repeated softly. “No, Maul. I think…I think the word I would use is _tragedy_.”

Maul huffed before finally, quietly, “Very well. Then a tragedy it is. What use is it to me?”

“What… _use_?” Tiq asked.

“Is it something I can Hate?” Maul asked simply, those Sith eyes so dark, that red burning burning, “or is it something to fear?”

“I would say _mourn_ ; I believe…”

“Mourn,” Maul repeated quietly. “What is this?”

Saesee could think of nothing to say. Could think of no… Tiq leaned forward then…

“Mourn is an action that is often attached to grief, or sadness.”

“It is a type of pain then?”

Tiq was silent for a moment before giving a shallow nod. “Yes,” he agreed. “Grief…sadness, mourning…they are often associated with pain. It is also associated with loss.”

“Loss…”

“Of…” Tiq spread his hand, “a great many things. With you…I mourn the loss of a childhood, of a warm…were you held as a child?”

Maul frowned slightly, “there was a droid… I remember my Master picked me up to move me…”

“But it was not…sustained contact, it was not holding for the sake of holding you? Did this droid have anything to simulate warmth?”

Maul’s frown deepened, “why?”

“Well…” Tiq cleared his throat, continuing on in a way that Saesee found admirable, his voice sure and strong, the way he was able to keep his emotions so still. “For a great number of reasons. For your development, for one. Children… _need_ to be held. It causes a great deal of emotional issues if they are not. A lack of proper development of empathy, a…”

Maul closed his eyes for a moment, causing Tiq to trail off, before finally, softly, “empathy…”

“Being able to feel the emotions of others, to be able to _understand_ what it is that someone else is feeling. There is sympathy, of course, which means that you feel sad, or…or…angry, or fearful because someone you are close to is also feeling such.”

“Ah.” Maul was quiet for a long time. “Can this…empathy be learned?”

“It… _depends_ ,” Tiq said softly. “If it is a matter of a lack of vocabulary, of…of _opportunity_ , which it very well may be, then it can be taught. But if it is…more engrained, if it is from a disorder, which is something that affects a person’s day to day life in a way that they cannot help, there is a possibility that it is merely…how it is. But that does not mean that the person involved is a monster, or somehow lesser, or that they cannot be taught how not to hurt. Feeling is not everything, _knowing_ is often enough. And even then, ultimately _choosing_ is where it counts.” Tiq spread a hand, “frankly in a lot of ways empathy means nothing to the ability to choose not to hurt. You may be able to empathize with what a person may be feeling, but if you choose to hurt that person anyway, then this empathy is not only hollow it is meaningless.”

“It is a common…ability though?” Maul asked softly. “Something that most are able to do?”

Tiq inclined his head. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Then it is something else taken from me.”

Tiq closed his eyes and finally, “yes. I would say so. He took…so much from you. A childhood, warmth, happy fucking memories to…” Tiq breathed deep and let it out slow. “He took so much from you.”

Maul hesitated, taking this in for a long moment and then softly, “Why do _you_ want me to hate him?”

There was an offer in that question, one that Saesee saw that Tiq recognized as Tiq blinked, before looking up at him, and he smiled.

“I want you to hate him because he took a small boy and hurt him so badly and so deeply, he has ruined your ability to meditate in different ways. Because he took so much from you and hurt you in such a way that it is no longer something you can draw upon, because you have no idea that it was a _hurt_. Because he made you into the most brittle weapon possible. Because he threw you away. Because frankly if anyone deserves to hate him…it is you.”

Maul took that in for a very long moment, quiet and still, and then there was a brief crackle of heat and Maul winced, giving a brief sharp hiss, before standing.

He wobbled there for a moment, looking very conflicted, before he finally gave a sharp nod. “I will…focus on this, then,” he said softly, dropped into a low bow, and then turned, closing the door behind him.

The heat that poured felt distinctly like rage and hate and perhaps…

The slightest bit of loss.

A beat later and that all condensed, pulled down into a single point…and erupted.

Saesee had to hold back a , the sudden heat and the sudden pressure erupting up so strongly… And it burned.

Tiq took a very shuddering breath, and slowly let it out.

“Hate him well, Maul,” he whispered. “Hate him well…”

Saesee thought…that he honestly might agree.

And then he breathed it out and felt the others do the same. It was not for them to hold.

* * *

Morning - Day 6

Anakin was buzzing.

The fire that had been burning since sometime in the early morning on the fourth day was finally starting to die out, sometime in the quiet that was heading towards dawn and it felt a lot more…final than any of the other fires had been. Though, there had been talks that this had merely been the first stage, and the next would be a great deal more intense. As it was, this was perhaps going to be Anakin’s only opportunity to see him, and he… Anakin needed to see him.

The Council had moved to Eeth’s room, providing a barrier between the Dark and the rest of the Temple, mainly to keep the burn from scaring younglings like…well, himself, but they hadn’t been able to hide it from Anakin. They couldn’t hide anything from Anakin, not in the Force, and certainly not Maul.

When they had decided that Anakin was not in any danger, and that Maul himself would be of no threat they had agreed to it. As the fire finally died out without even smoke to mark its presence, Anakin looked to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, his expression filled with excitement.

A beat later and the comm crackled and both of his Teachers laughed aloud. Qui-Gon told them that they were coming and Obi-Wan stood up with him.

“Alright, come on.”

They walked through the halls and Anakin was momentarily frightened at the realization that the burning seemed to have gone out entirely, but as he reached, he finally felt a glimmer of Maul’s presence, a soft ember that was nearly drowned out amongst the pools that surrounded it. It shifted, startling at his presence, and then brushed against him. There was an impression of a thought, a reach, and then ‘who then…are you?’

Anakin grinned. He hadn’t known if he’d be able to touch the mind of a Sith in this way, wasn’t sure if Maul would be able to reach him, if they would be too fundamentally different to make that connection, but the ease and the gentle softness of the question, the way there was no hurt and all of those sparks were contained, nice and gentle to keep from hurting him…

Anakin fought the smile down to something manageable, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t just connected with a Sith in a way he…wasn’t entirely certain he was allowed to do, and allowed himself the teasing answer of -

‘You’ll see~’

Maul’s presence recoiled, something disgusted and annoyed in a way that he had never felt a Jedi’s flashing through it, and the sheer honesty within it was momentarily thrilling, even if it did make him want to laugh. Then there was a sudden flash, that spark stabbed against him in a way that was not so much a knife as it was a finger jabbing at him in realization, in recognition.

‘Smaller Brat.’

Anakin blinked, pushing ‘what do you mean?’ at him.

The presence laughed at him, pulled away, and that ember returned to its soft sparking and didn’t respond to any of his attempts to get its attention.

_Rude_.

Worst of it was Anakin couldn’t ask about it. He’d be admitting he connected with it.

They were going up towards Eeth’s room, mostly walking in silence and it was…nice. Anakin really liked his Teachers and was slowly settling in their teaching styles. Primarily Qui-Gon of course, but Obi-Wan assisted where Qui-Gon had trouble and vice versa. It was good. It helped him learn, and he was doing so much better.

Til was a good friend and with her help he had enough of a repertoire of witty remarks that the last time a Padawan had tried to slight him he’d been holding back tears. Til had high fived him behind their Teacher’s back. It had been a good day.

This was a better one.

They were going to see Maul, and Anakin had a gift. Though this time he thought it would be one that Maul could take. He knew that Maul was currently in a fast, so he could not bring the ice cream that he had originally planned on, but there were many tricks to keep cool on a desert planet, and though he wasn’t sure if Maul would be able to use it or not, as he didn’t know how important the heat was, the gel pack would at least help to keep him cool.

As they got closer to Eeth’s rooms Anakin realized he could hear a…if not particularly loud, certainly adamant discussion, realizing as he watched that the Guards had the doors open and were peering in as well, every so often giving their own opinions.

“What’s happening here, then?” Qui-Gon asked with a raised brow, and the three of them sped up to take a look into the room to see the Council in an argument, Maul sitting on the floor with his back to Plo, a wet towel wrapped around his shoulders as he listened.

Maul did…not look that well. Not really. His gaze was feverish, and he looked close to falling asleep where he sat, and the idea of the Dark Side as a sickness was enforced, just a little bit. At the same time, though, a lot of him looked very satisfied, and that spark that he could feel now that he was closer, was warm and almost…amused?

And then the conversation registered, and Anakin wanted to laugh aloud.

“Skip it he should,” Yoda was saying, “no use he is getting, irrelevant it is.”

“But,” Plo retorted, “just because he is not getting any use out of it _now_ does not mean that there is no use to it at all.”

“Understand the use, do _you_?” Yaddle challenged.

Plo held a finger up to respond, before finally sighing and putting it down once Maul turned to look up at him. “No,” Plo grumbled.

“Then you shouldn’t expect him to try and get something out of it that even you don’t get,” Adi said gently, but there was a smile in her gaze.

“I have been amazed at his insight before,” Plo returned, and Anakin watched Maul momentarily blink, his chin tilting up as he momentarily gave into surprise, and then ducking back down again. That ember felt…pleased. Plo sighed, before looking to Maul directly. “You don’t even find the songs amusing?”

Maul finally turned and stared at him, not saying a single word, and Plo laughed.

“Skip it then, they’re right, I truthfully believe that there must be something to that man with the River Lady as his wife, but I frankly have never understood it. Though I do have a question.”

Maul made a soft noise, waiting.

“Do you believe that his ability to banish the ring is indicative of a command over the Dark or the use of the Dark?”

There was silence.

Maul rubbed his face. “Provided that his own power was enough there is every potential that he was able to subdue it under his own control of the Dark itself… But I do not know that this would be the case. It seemed to me like it was more of a _command_.”

“Perhaps,” Plo sighed, and then he noticed them, “Oh, hello.” He smiled and Anakin grinned back, entering with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. “Apologies, we were having a discussion. Please come in.”

“Thank you,” came their agreement and they walked forward, after a moment joining Maul in sitting on the floor, though staying far enough away that they were not crowding him.

Anakin was buzzing. Outside of the moment when he had first seen him – and that was a moment Anakin did not want to remember much – this was the first time that he had been within touching distance. Before there was always something between them, be it transparisteel or ray shield. The temptation to ask for a hug was very strong, but he thought it was best to wait for that. He did not want to overwhelm him.

“How is your meditation going, Lord Maul?” Obi-Wan asked then, smiling.

“Well,” Maul answered with a brief dip of his head, “I have finished the first level. All that is left is the…” he hesitated, his eyes lingering on Anakin for a moment before he frowned slightly. “Well. The next part, all of this will not be necessary,” he gestured around at the Council, and that frown turned into a grimace. “I do still…”

“There’s no need for an apology,” Depa said with a shake of her head. “We meant it when we said that you would be able to make a choice. The consequence of this choice meant that we need to work to contain the Dark to this room, but nothing and no one has been hurt and it has been an…enlightening experience.”

“We have learned much,” Oppo agreed, holding up a long finger, smiling through his beard, “and I daresay that you have gained much.”

“Yes,” Maul answered with a nod. “And I will not have to reach this level again.”

“So, you won’t burn?” Anakin asked.

“No,” Maul answered. “I shall not burn. That level of heat is thankfully unnecessary now, that level is finished. The next should not feel like much of anything, though it will be deeper and I may be within it for longer periods before I come out of it.”

Anakin made a brief annoyed sound, “Aw, I should have gotten this to you earlier.”

“Gotten what?” Maul asked, tilting his head.

Anakin held up the cooling pack, showing it to him. “It’s not much, but it keeps you cool. My mom showed me how to make it.”

Maul frowned at it, “you could still give it to me.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to burn?” Anakin frowned.

“Yes, but I am definitely still burning now…” Maul stretched himself roughly. “It lingers more than I thought it would.”

Anakin beamed and stood up, walking towards him, and holding it out. “You put it on the base of your neck,” he explained. “My mom always wrapped it in a towel, but you can put it directly on your skin if you need to.”

Maul took it from him and held the towel for a moment before shrugging and pressing it against the back of his neck, his eyes closing a beat afterwards. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Anakin smiled, and it took Maul staring up at him with a brow slowly arching for him to realize he was hovering. “Sorry,” he said, taking a step back and then hesitated, closing his eyes, before finally, softly, “am I allowed to hug you?” and forced his eyes to open in order to gauge Maul’s response.

Maul blinked, his expression going very blank, looking for a moment as though he had never expected the question, and…really Anakin could understand and he found himself wanting to back away, growing very shy underneath that unyieldingly still expression. Not even the spark revealed anything, not really, it just burned.

“I…” Maul hesitated, “do not…know?”

“You are not going to hurt him, are you?” Qui-Gon asked him, and Maul’s gaze snapped to his for a moment, a brief sneer sliding across his face before it died again, and his brows pinched, before he finally shook his head. “I don’t have any problem with it then. Though, Anakin, do mind his horns. And he has to say whether or not he wants it.”

Anakin nodded immediately, beaming at Maul who…

“I have to…”

“Of course,” Plo said gently, gaining Maul’s attention. “Bodily autonomy is important, your ownership of yourself… If you do not wish to be touched, I’m quite certain young Skywalker would not touch you.”

Anakin immediately nodded, so hard and so strongly he thought his head might wobble off, but he couldn’t help it. This was another thing he remembered about Blood Slaves – their bodies were often used so often in the service of their Master’s quest for blood that their own ownership of it was…strained. Maul took this in for a long moment and then frowned at him.

“You will have to guide me through this,” he said finally, roughly, “I have only done it once.”

Anakin felt a bit like all of the wind had been stripped from his sails, felt the similar stillness in the others, recognizing briefly that Plo had balled his hands into fists behind him. “Okay,” he said then, breathing the emotion out and doing his best to smile. “You’re taller than me, so you should probably get onto your knees, right? I think that the best hugs are when you’re close to level, but you can also pick the shorter person up and hold them close, but that’s only for the close friends, and the ones you know won’t mind. I like those ones, but we should probably do something less intense at first.”

“I see,” Maul said easily, and there was the hint of something teasing in that voice, even as there was some part of him that was taking this very seriously. Maul moved to sit on his knees properly, and this part it seemed that he knew, because once he had brought himself to roughly Anakin’s level, he opened his arms to him.

Anakin didn’t hesitate, he threw himself into him, feeling Maul tense, jerking his head back, careful of his horns, and there was a part of him that wanted to apologize, but the rest of him just wanted to hold him, and that part was winning.

Anakin felt Maul’s tension slowly give and he held him back. Maul was warm, feverish heat mixed with a Zabrak’s natural heat, which meant he really was burning, but Anakin didn’t care, he carefully lowered his head onto Maul’s shoulder, feeling the wet and cold of the towel and the gel pack that was underneath. Maul’s hands shifted, following his lead, but his head did not lower, those horns still a danger to him, though he did feel the slight press of a jaw against his ear. It was the closest he could get, and Anakin almost wept.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I did not mean to order you. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

Maul stilled for a moment, and then gently, that ember reached out to him softly – ‘it is alright,’ it whispered, rough and crackling with heat, with warmth, ‘it was better for me and I do not blame you. I know fear. I do not blame you for temporarily giving into it, little Jedi. You are still learning.’

Anakin really did start weeping, and that was when Maul stilled, before carefully pushing him back, staring at him with wide and, “Why are you leaking? I do not understand, did I hurt you?”

“No!” Anakin managed, almost wailing, covering his eyes, “I’m just so…hap~py, thaaank you!”

Maul was staring at him with wide eyes, his expression completely baffled. “I…you…what?” 

Qui-Gon was approaching then, and there was laughter in his voice, even as he carefully picked Anakin up, holding him close. “Don’t worry, Lord Maul,” he said softly, “it’s a normal reaction. He’s been under a lot of stress. It is not your fault at all.”

Maul sunk back into his original cross-legged position, that ember still giving barely a flicker, and stared after the both of them like they were crazy, but soon brushed it off. And then he had a moment where his attention went inwards, considering. “I told you the other day that I could not think of a positive emotion to focus on wholly in meditation,” he said after a beat, and Anakin realized how still the other members of the Council got. Yoda, Eeth, Even, Saesee, Yaddle and Plo particularly turned their attention to him very suddenly. “I realize I misspoke. I do have one.”

“Thought of one you did?”

“Yes,” Maul said finally, but whatever it was he did not say, though… Maul did lean closer to Plo for a moment.

Plo sat still, and then his head rose, realization visible, and those hands fisted, before one of them opened, reaching out well within Maul’s vision. Maul took it in for a moment, before allowing his head to dip towards it. A horn was hooked in those long fingers, squeezed, and Maul closed his eyes, before finally pulling away.

“When do you have to start your second phase?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Soon,” Maul answered, looking up to him.

“Is there anything for us to look out for?” Adi asked.

Maul frowned for a moment, “I will be going very deep into meditation and it is possible I will not come out for days at a time, particularly once I manage to connect with…well.”

“You’re being very circular about this,” Obi-Wan said then, smiling.

“You have a youngling that has barely begun to imprint the intrinsic nature of your Order within him. Why would you wish me to confuse him with my own?”

“Actually…” Obi-Wan blinked, “that’s very thoughtful of you, thank you.”

Maul raised a brow imperiously but said nothing in return. “Regardless, it is possible that when I do come out of the meditation before these last four days are up, I will not be…entirely there. I will not cause harm, I have no malice within me, and my…I am _stable_. I may, however, answer questions or do things that I…would not otherwise wish to… Please be careful with what you ask of me.”

There was an immediate agreement to this, and Maul nodded.

“I believe…I will start now. You will not need to bring the entire Council into this again. I thank you for your leniency,” He bowed forward, his horns pressed to the ground, before finally standing up and returning to the room that still echoed with the burning.

There was a pause, waiting momentarily for something to spark, for a flash of heat…

Nothing.

And then…that ember seemed to wink out. Anakin felt his stomach lurch, Plo carefully palming open the door.

Maul sat there, obviously very deep in meditation, unmoving, not even registering the opening of the door, but that ember did give them a very careful wink, before once again fading out.

Still here, it seemed to say, and it was…it was good. 

“That…” Obi-Wan said roughly, “is actually rather impressive…”

There was a pause as they took this in, and Anakin smiled finally. Four more days and Maul would be out.

He hoped Maul’d let him hug him again. He promised to himself that next time he wouldn’t cry on him.

* * *

Evening – Day 8

Tiq was humming to himself quietly, following Eeth as they walked to his rooms. Interestingly enough, once Maul had focused further on his Wodza, the burning that they’d been worried would leach into Eeth’s rooms had faded as well, drawing stone-cold and silent, much like the one who concentrated it.

Maul had not moved from that spot in two days, and Tiq was beginning to wonder if he would need to see if Maul could be roused at all, but when they palmed open the door Maul was standing there with his back to them, staring out the windows.

Eeth had large windows in his rooms, ones taking up nearly the entire wall, staring out into the west. The sun was setting, painting the rooms in reds and golds, Maul standing out as a silhouette against it.

“Lord Maul?” Tiq said softly, walking forward quietly, Eeth joining him.

Maul turned slowly, staring at him, his gaze hazy, those glowing Sith eyes staring at him out of a face that was otherwise drowned in shadow.

“Do you remember me?” Tiq asked gently.

Maul stared at him for a moment, his expression neutral, that empty feeling still deep within him. “Tiq,” Maul said softly, watching him quietly, “your name is Tiq, and you are Eeth. You are helping me.”

“Yes,” Tiq answered with a smile. “You told me to be careful with questions…”

“I did,” he agreed.

“How long will you be moving?”

Maul was quiet for a moment, closing his eyes, “not long,” he said softly. “But I had missed the windows.”

“The windows?” Eeth asked softly.

“My Master took them from me,” he said, “when I was young. He changed my room, and it was bigger, but there was no…window. I could no longer see out.” His attention had turned back to the wide windows, a hand reaching out and pressing against the transparisteel, still staring out. “I missed it. I painted it on the wall…in blood…I had been…beaten savagely and I wanted…I wanted out so badly. He threw me out. He threw me out with a broken arm, and when I got back, they had to break it once more. I got out. It was not…nice… This is…better. Though I do not like your chains. You will…eventually remove them. _He_ would not have…”

Maul fell silent, swaying slightly, his forehead dipping close to the window and Tiq made a very solemn promise to himself that he would _not_ introduce Maul to paint. Pencils, clay…other things…but there was too much chance for a PTSD response.

He also cursed himself quietly. They had not been as careful with the questions as he had hoped and wherever Maul’s actual mind was right now, it was at that honest stage where anything could be said.

Tiq walked forward and guided him back gently, and also made a promise to himself that they would see about getting him into a new cell…

And this one would have windows.

Though these, he thought…would probably face east.

* * *

Day 11

Maul came to with a gasp, feeling everything snapping in place within him like a jigsaw puzzle that had found a missing piece. His entire body thrummed with power and control, heat and warmth, and he was…

Whole.

Maul’s Chwûq was settled, his Wodza was locked in place. Maul would not burn unless he willed himself to. Maul would not _hurt_ unless he wanted to.

The hard part had finally finished. The only thing left was to break his fast, and most likely get some actual sleep.

Maul stood up on slightly wobbly legs, feeling the hunger that he had not allowed himself to feel for the entire time and knowing that he would be allowed to eat. Maul…shook his head slightly as he finally walked forward to press his hand on the switch to open Eeth’s door for perhaps the final time.

Tiq, Plo, Eeth, Mace, and Yoda were waiting for him, with the addition of Depa and Yaddle.

Maul bowed to them, low and sweeping, and was momentarily surprised when they bowed back.

He took a breath and followed where they would take him, knowing that eventually he would have to put the collar back on, but for now…they would let him complete the ritual.

It was…better than he expected, more than he had ever thought he would get…

It was _good_.

Maybe...they really did want nothing... Maul would wait and he would see.


	20. Of Rituals and Breathing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of a Ritual is performed and the Dawn of a New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ritual is made up for a few reasons that are mentioned and also the idea that *all* Sith have to perform it made me *WHEEZE* and so I decided to go for it. Everyone comes up with different reasons for Maul's bad teeth, this is something I came up with. The let a weapon rot thing is definitely a major reason for it. Either way, Maul does speak Huttese, Twi'leki and Sith as well as Basic in the Legends canon. Boy is a polyglot and it is wild. More headcanons on different species are given. There was also an entire series of levels that were utilized for lakes and peace etc so like, having some for food made sense, so here we are. The Sith mentioned is an actual Sith, though her species was made up by me. We're beginning to open up to other things and other possibilities! I'm excited guys~ Enjoy!

Depa Billaba watched Maul as he stood there, no longer burning, his body language lacking all hostility, those Sith eyes still looking as though they were on fire from the inside out, but their gaze was… Depa would call it _warm_ , almost. The threat of heat within, but for now they were calm.

Storm clouds over still water.

Depa had never thought she would use the word calm to describe a Sith, particularly _this_ Sith who had caused untold chaos since the beginning, had killed two of their own, had fought Mace Windu with the intent to kill, but… Depa was finding it to be true.

Depa was also finding that she was pleased that she had listened to her once-Master, that she had trusted the Force and was able to have this moment where the product of the line of their ancient enemies stood before them, and faced them utterly without fear, and equally without ill-intent. Depa had found reason for her trust once again, reason for her feelings of slight fondness – the Guards’ own fondness part of the reason, and his own nature the other part of it. Maul had been open in a way she had never expected, guardedly so, but willing to give more than she had ever expected – and that included little bits and pieces of himself, which also included small reminders of his youth.

She was amused to find that in this moment of quiet openness, Maul was every inch the utterly exhausted teenager, stubbornly working to stay on his own two feet.

The thought brought the quiet, “What is next, Darth Maul?” from her lips, “what else do you need?” with the intent to allow him to do it as quick as possible, so he could finally allow his body the rest that it needed.

Maul looked over to her, and she was momentarily surprised to see a…was that a film over his eyes? That film pulled back, he blinked, and… And then Eeth made a surprised sound and she knew that she was not the only one who had seen it.

Maul focused on him very sharply as he took a sudden step towards him, Eeth apologizing quietly, “Do…can you do that again?”

Maul frowned before blinking…

“You have a third eyelid!” came the exclamation from Eeth, and Maul specifically closed it, that film sliding across his eye.

“Yes,” Maul answered and after a pause, “Do you not?”

“No, not at all,” Eeth said then, taking a closer step towards him. “Do you mind tilting your head up a bit? May I see it?"

Maul frowned slightly, instinctively lowering his head, before he seemed to reconsider and allowed that third lid to close even as he tilted his chin up slightly. Depa had not realized how much control he would have over it, but now that she thought of it, it made sense. This then was not something that could be hidden from him, for the simple fact that it would be reflexive.

“You’re an utterly hairless species, aren’t you?” Tiq asked, taking in that film as it caught the light.

“Yes,” Maul confirmed.

“What a fascinating adaptation,” Eeth said softly, and Maul blinked it open, returning his gaze to him once Eeth had stepped back. “That must be very useful.”

Maul frowned. “I…have not noticed.”

And that was as fair a statement as any. He’d never known any other way. And then he looked at her.

“You asked me what is next?”

“Yes,” Depa answered, “I understand you are to break your fast, and that it requires a sacrifice to do so, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Maul answered with a dip of his head, “I must hunt and consume all that is edible. There are parts to avoid, and the bones themselves, all of which must be burned.”

“So, probably something small,” Tiq said, “unless you want to be sick,” and there was a very obvious gentle tease in his voice. 

Maul wrinkled his nose in distaste, and Depa was momentarily startled at how stark the expression was, the tattoos shaping and forming it into something that heightened what would otherwise have been something…teasing, she thought. The ember that flickered within him held no hostility, burning and flickering and hot as it was, there was no anger – and Depa rather thought she knew what anger felt like within him now.

Or perhaps that had merely been hate.

“I’m going to take that as an agreement then. Well, I’ve been in talks with Dormosh, our Carnivore head of Kitchens, and there are several species running around in our conservatory that would actually fit the requirements well, I think, and should be edible,” Eeth said, smiling. “Third eyelid or not, our diets do seem to be extremely aligned.”

Maul inclined his head slightly.

“Are there any herbs required for the fire?”

“The fire and the cleaning to come afterwards,” Maul agreed.

“Oh, that is right, you did mention a cleaning ritual,” Plo said, “what is required for that? I believe I would be able to gather the herbs for both rites easily enough.”

Maul hesitated, then looked at him directly, and his teeth were slowly bared in a smile that was as much taunt as it was amusement.

Depa was momentarily startled at the sight of those teeth, but this was a question she wasn’t entirely sure how to ask, because how precisely were you meant to say ‘hey, I had thought your teeth were rotted, instead they seem to be quite whole if not yellowed – what changed?’

“Your teeth…?” Tiq started softly. “I do not understand, does the ritual you performed strengthen other weaknesses?”

Oh. Perhaps like that.

Maul hesitated, for a moment visibly not comprehending and then he gave a brief sound of understanding. “It was never a weakness; they have always been whole. I have merely…not had need of it and so I ceased in its application.”

“What was ‘it’?” Mace asked.

Maul hesitated for a moment, “A paste, easily mixed, I can show you if you would like though it does involve…hurt.”

“What kind of hurt?” Tiq asked.

Maul hesitated for a moment and then lifted up his arm, twisting it just so to catch the light along his inner-arm and… Oh. Oh, that was a _bite_ …

“ _Absolutely_ not!” Tiq answered and that was a perfectly pertinent response to that. “The entire…but I don’t understand, you were…” Tiq swallowed, “told to _take care_ of your teeth…?”

“And this was a way to take care of them when around…enemies,” Maul frowned. “It is habit, ingrained, clean them, bite, make the paste and let it set. Saliva and blood mixed once dried is reasonably solid, as a carnivore my blood is naturally thicker. You didn’t _seriously_ believe I’d let a potential weapon rot, did you?” Maul asked and his nose was wrinkling again, and this time there was genuine disgust behind the question, though it did not feel like it was pointed towards _them_ necessarily, merely…the concept, perhaps?

And…it did make sense, for as much as the actual reasoning behind it was perhaps…twisted, it nonetheless did make sense that his teeth would be taken care of and utilized as both threat and weapon.

“Well, that at least means we don’t have to get you to a dentist,” Tiq said then and Maul’s brows pinched a bit more before he gave the slightest of shrugs in agreement. “But those herbs?”

Maul listed them off, all of which Depa knew they had in the Jedi’s rather extensive gardens, but it was only as he reached the last one that Plo had taken note of, that Depa found herself frowning. “But…that would be a potent chemical peel?”

Maul turned that grin to her directly, amusement in his expression. “Yes.”

“Not kidding you were when cleaning you said,” Yoda noted and Maul shrugged even as Depa had to hold back a laugh, though she did not think that Maul would mind. “Reason behind this ritual there is?”

Maul hesitated and this was…understandable. These were _Sith_ rituals, Sith _secrets_ , and he was technically sharing them with the people who had been his enemies. They no longer were, and they had offered to teach him, and he had shown he was interested in learning, but the ones he was offering in return were _secret_ , meant for the _Dark_.

“You do not have to feel obligated, Lord Maul,” Depa said softly, and Maul’s attention turned to her. “We will teach you either way, it is merely to satisfy our own curiosity. I do not believe we have had an opportunity to learn about the Sith in over a Millenia, and certainly not from a Sith’s mouth.”

Maul looked a bit like he had not expected that and Depa smiled at him, giving him a nod.

“May I…think about it?”

“Necessary this is,” Yoda agreed. “Right Depa is to give reassurance,” he said with a nod to her. “Your answers, unneeded they are for help to be given to you,” he smiled up at Maul then. “Satisfying my own curiosity, the question was for. No trap there is,” he smiled.

Maul took this in and slowly nodded.

“Come on,” Mace said then, “let’s get you where you need, and if you decide to inform us, we will listen.”

Maul took this in for a moment before inclining his head. He also accepted the tunic they gave him, as well as the robe, putting them both on and then he paused before putting the hood on his head. “I can…” his presence diminished, making it hard to not slide her gaze right past him, “would this make it easier?”

“Your shoulder may I ride?” Yaddle asked and Maul inclined his head in agreement after a beat of pause.

Once she was settled, they began walking, and Maul kept his presence in. It was odd and a bit disquieting to walk next to someone whose signature she had grown rather familiar with ovr these last couple weeks, only to find that he simply was not there. It reminded her a bit of a droid and their void in the Force, but Maul was of flesh, and certainly had a very strong connection to the Force, so this was strange.

This was something that Depa herself wished to ask of him, but she had a feeling that this particular Sith secret was one that Maul would not even _think_ of sharing.

It was only as they were all in the elevator, quietly waiting for it to reach the necessary level – and even with the high speeds the elevators could reach it would take a while, the rooms for hunting low within the Temple – that Maul seemed to make a decision in regards to Yoda’s question.

“Darth Noctyss,” Maul said finally, and they turned.

“Darth Noctyss, Darth Noctyss,” Yoda repeated, “unfamiliar with that name I am. Their history will you tell?”

Maul inclined his head and quietly began to speak.

“Darth Noctyss was a female Tiss’har, one who was known by the Sith for two things – her hunt for immortality, and the legend that every time she shed her skin she became twice as strong.”

“Powerful she sounds,” Yoda noted gently, “commemorated for her power, or her hunt for immortality?”

“Both,” Maul answered, “though the shedding of skin has other connotations. There is of course the replacement of the old with the new – the Master’s death at the hands of the Apprentice…”

“Oh, I see!” Depa said, blinking, “I had not thought of that.”

“There is also the legend that snakes age backwards, also connected to immortality and power and the replacing of an old with something better, something stronger. The ritual itself is done in a single night, the chemical peel aided by alchemy and the Force.”

“That must take a lot of control…” Plo said softly.

“Yes,” Maul answered, “particularly when both the Alchemy and the shed itself can go wrong. Chemical burns if the mixture is wrong, bleeding should you pry too deep or too quickly…”

Tiq clicked his tongue roughly, his expression twisting, “I do not like that.”

“I will not hurt,” Maul said softly. “I agreed I will not, and I won’t. I have a…natural gift for Alchemy, though…much of the art was kept from me…” Maul frowned. “And my control is impeccable. The layer itself will be disposed of, so there is no worry for that either.”

“How is it gotten rid of?”

“I eat it.”

There was a long pause as Depa tried to hold back her immediate disgusted reaction, feeling the slightest roil of it in the others even as their expressions remained completely still, and then Maul started a low and wheezing sound, rough and rasping and finally he just threw his head back and _laughed_. It was a wild and utterly delighted sound that was somehow both endearing and sent a shiver down her spine, but nonetheless Depa found herself joining, the others finally falling into it as well, Yaddle gently tweaking one of his horns.

“I am sorry,” he said finally, when he had caught his breath, “the looks on your faces…” he grinned, once again baring so much of those yellowed teeth. Whole they may be, but there was no doubt that blood _stained_. “It gets dissolved in the chemical peel and dumped. There is no trace left after the ritual is done, there can be none. We are for the Dark.”

And there was a truth in that, and it was a reminder that sobered her, though the amusement still burned.

Plo was smiling at him. “Well,” he said finally, “I am pleased that you do not have to actually eat it.”

“So am I,” Maul said. “The remaining chemical would probably not be good to consume.”

There was a pause. “Honestly, hearing that, I think I’m glad that you aren’t _meant_ to consume it.”

Maul raised a brow, “we are about power and Dark, we are generally not suicidal.”

“No,” came the gentle agreement from Mace, “Immortality seems to be the more important goal.”

Maul shrugged but said nothing else.

The elevator stopped.

“Here we are,” Tiq said and the doors slid open.

Depa watched as Maul took a slow step out of the elevator, momentarily staring around himself in shock, and frankly Depa could understand.

The level they were in was a prime example of one of the few ‘indulgences’ that the Jedi had. Seeing the number of purely carnivorous species there were, the fact that they did work on allowing their members to participate in various rituals, and the fact that they ultimately needed meat, the level they were in was purely devoted to keeping a rather sizeable number of livestock whose habitat was often precisely as it would be on their home planets.

If not for the walls that could be seen if one looked, and the elevator that led them to it, it would not be hard to think that they were outside on some distant planet. The animals were well fed and well-tended, but otherwise allowed to roam, breed, and generally behave as they would in order to keep the population steady. It left them as self-sustained as possible, complete with the gardens above.

“The caretakers know of your presence here and they are aware that you are hunting and that you will not hurt them, but they are armed, and you will be followed from a distance by Yoda. If the actual act itself is sacred, you can signal to him and he will keep his distance. As it is, we will wait.” The unspoken Maul would not be able to escape, and they would be likely to defeat him before he was able to actively hurt anyone was obvious. Maul also seemed to appreciate it, straightening slightly, looking at her directly. How strange that one who stressed his desire not to hurt, and yet could not help but straighten in the reminder of his capability to hurt. Though truly, when it was ultimately just another reminder of how Maul had only _had_ that ability to hurt define his measure of worth… “May the Force be with you,” Depa said, finally, breathing it out and spreading her hand out to encompass everything around them, to wish him well, Yaddle dropping from his shoulder, giving him a warm and friendly smile, a slight nod of her head.

Maul hesitated, hovering, and then finally, quietly, “What does that mean? You keep saying that, but I do not understand. The Force is always with me…provided it is not kept away by… _other_ means… Does the Force leave a Jedi?”

Depa found herself smiling, “No,” she said, “I am sorry I had not thought that you would be unfamiliar with the saying. It is…much the same as wishing someone luck, or well when facing a task or a challenge.”

Maul gave a soft hum, before frowning and shaking his head, and then, that grin spread across his mouth. “I do not need it.”

Before Depa could really process what he had said Maul gave a slight nod, and…

Vanished.

One moment he was there and then he just _wasn’t_ , his Presence slipping away from them, and if it wasn’t for a glimpse of black cloth that she once again felt as though he was showing them deliberately, she would not have seen him. Either way, Yoda shot off after him, and she knew that while _she_ may not be able to find him, Yoda likely was still able to.

“Well trained he is,” Yaddle noted softly, “in the art of sneaking and disappearing. An interesting trick this is.”

“That one, I think,” Mace said, his brows rising, “he is probably not going to teach us.”

“No doubt,” Tiq answered with a grin. “Well, I suppose we have a bit of a wait.”

“I will get the herbs,” Plo said, giving them a brief bow, and then he returned to the elevator and was gone.

The only thing left then was to wait.

* * *

Maul had never expected… Any of this.

If it was not for the smell of metal, the faint feeling of electricity crackling in the air, the fact that if he looked he could see where the simulated daylight streamed in, Maul could imagine that he was outside and not within the Jedi Temple.

It looked like it went on for kilometers, up several stories. Perhaps several _levels_ , and Maul found himself perching on a tree. He tapped it, feeling the bark under his fingers, for a moment delighting in the feeling of something grown, something…

Maul stiffened slightly at Yoda’s sudden appearance near him, but he did not startle or flinch, turning to meet his eyes. He was surprised when Yoda made a very falsely surreptitious look to his right and to his left, and then held out something that Maul would never have expected. A vibroblade, large in the diminutive Jedi Ma-Teacher’s hand, but one that would be perfectly serviceable in his.

“An animal you are not,” Yoda said gently, staring at him and Maul found himself stiffening, before he took it, feeling the hilt, the heft to it. It was a good blade and Maul found himself with something rising up in his throat, something he could not name as he looked to Yoda, took in the gentleness, the…the _weakness_ , and found that he did…not _mind_ it for some reason, not when it was trained on him like that. “Returned it will be when you are done.”

Maul nodded his head in agreement, and Yoda smiled at him, before disappearing back into the branches.

Maul had planned to wait here until something came to him, curious to see what sort of creatures they had, but now he found himself with the more tempting prospect of satisfying his curiosity, and Maul had a lot of questions of his own. Now that he had bound his Wodza to his bones and to his heart, now that he had chained it to him and the burn was contained within, there was a clarity there that he had not felt in…so long.

It was a clarity that had never been with his Master, with that Chwûq disguised as Wodza.

Maul had never stopped burning, had never stopped wanting blood, even after the ritual had been complete and he should have… Maul had never realized just how much it had ripped through him, how little clarity he had until now…until… Maul had repeated the process as his Master had taught him, but for it to be so _different_ …

If there was any more evidence Maul had needed that his original Wodza had been planted, had been… Maul closed his eyes, frustration rising within him. Maul had trusted and been lied to again and again and again. _Why_? What was the purpose? Why had his trust been so betrayed? Had Maul always been someone his Master had meant to throw away? But why would so much time have been spent on him? Why would his Master have _raised_ him?

But Maul remembered some things, other things, and closed his eyes.

It was all too much.

But either way, Maul had a hunt to continue. Maul had a ritual to complete.

Maul once again began moving, finding another tree further in, and waited.

Maul remained there patiently, falling slightly into meditation, playing idly with the knife as he felt for small nonsentients that may be drifting close to him. He could feel others out there, sentients, ones that would be minding the livestock, but he paid them no mind. He did not want to see them, and he did not wish to be seen, so Maul simply sat.

For a long moment there was nothing, time stretching into infinity as Maul waited and watched. And then…a sound. Maul opened his eyes, following the smell and the sound of something working its way through the underbrush, sharp eyes trained.

The sight of a rabbit was a welcome one.

It would work.

Maul fell upon it with the blade, the smell of blood in his nose and triumph in his veins.

He signaled that this part would not be watched and felt Yoda’s presence diminish. For a moment he wondered whether he was just hiding, wondered if Yoda was still watching…and then he took in that vibroblade in his hand and decided to extend the slightest bit of trust.

And then he got to work.

* * *

Plo had collected the necessary herbs, calmly returning to the elevator, and waiting next to the others, the slightly astringent-smelling bundle tied together, and a much more fragrant bundle that Plo assumed would go with the fire also ready.

“Sith rituals are something else,” Eeth noted when Plo handed the one for the chemical peel to him after he extended his hand, giving it a slight sniff and wrinkling his nose.

“Something else they might be, but they are definitely something we should respect,” Tiq said softly.

“Agreed,” Eeth said immediately, “I meant no disrespect…”

Tiq hummed, smiling at him, a wordless acknowledgement that Eeth nodded to. 

“Pleased I am that willing to joke about it he was,” Yaddle noted softly. “A good sign this is.”

“Yes,” Tiq agreed, “has he laughed before while he has been here?”

“I believe so,” Eeth said, “I know he held it in with me, but Anakin has reported hearing him laugh before. Though his sense of humor seems to be similarly dark.”

“I’m not surprised,” Plo noted softly. “I am merely happy that it seems some of it survived. Did I tell you that when I first met him he stated that I could only call him Lord?”

“ _No_ ,” Tiq called out, amusement bright in his voice, “did he _really_?”

“He did,” Plo grinned. “And then stated he was bored and broadened it to Lord Maul, and then Darth Maul after that.”

“That is _delightful_ ,” Tiq laughed, and Plo was amused to find the rest joining him. “Oh, but I am pleased to hear that.”

They fell silent after a while, content to wait, meditating quietly.

It did not take long before there was a feeling of Dark that spiked, not in warning, but with an almost…invitation.

“Never thought I’d be going towards something that felt like that willingly,” Eeth said then with amusement lacing his voice and they laughed.

Yoda was waiting for them at a distance, smiling at them when they approached.

“Quick and clean it was,” Yoda noted. “Accepted the vibroblade he did when offered.”

“I’m glad,” Tiq said, and Plo agreed. They approached together to find Maul, hooded and cloaked, kneeling by a pile of sticks that had been carefully arranged into a pyre, the bones of what looked to be a rabbit to his left. As Plo examined it he could see that the intestines had been wound around the bones in an intricate knot that he couldn’t quite figure out, the skin placed to the side. Either way, it kept the bones together and Plo handed the herbs over, Maul taking the bundle and giving a quick thanks.

For a moment Maul sat there quietly, his head lowered over the herb bundle. Plo could hear the slightest of whisperings, though what he was saying he could not say, but that feeling of Dark was reeking and omnipresent. Maul had called it a kind of alchemy, and Plo wondered… When he was finally done he broke the herbs in half, grinding them in his fingers to release the scent, and carefully arranging them over the top of the sticks, before finally placing the remains on top of that.

“Light it, can I?” Yoda asked.

Maul hesitated long enough that Yoda gave a soft sound before holding his shoto out to him. Maul hesitated before taking it, and Plo could see small markings in what looked like blood drawn on the palms of his hands, but he was careful with how he held the saber, igniting it and holding it with mostly his claws, not letting his skin come in contact. He held it to the middle of the remains, and when the pyre finally caught alight, Plo was surprised to see it burned green.

Maul took a step back, returning the shoto, and Yoda inclined his head to him.

They watched as the pyre burned, the heat from the little fire was incredible, eating through the remains and the sticks themselves greedily, and when it finally burned out it was like it had never been.

Maul turned his attention to them, peering up from the cloak, and hesitated, looking to Yaddle. “Is it alright if you do not ride on my shoulder this time?”

“Absolutely it is,” Yaddle smiled at him. “We will bring you to your cell now.”

“Thank you,” Maul stood and followed them.

He was silent this time and the Dark had retreated. Maul was still steady, and he pulled his presence close as soon as they returned, entering the main area, walking with them to the cell block and the Guards. Plo…found that as they approached, that he honestly could not wait.

Not at the prospect of putting him back in another cell…but…

Maul slowed slightly as they walked past where his last cell had been, but he did not comment, following their lead. Two guards waited for them, and Maul hesitated at realizing it was ray shielded, though when it opened, and he was allowed to enter his attention slipped directly past that and right to…

Maul bit back a sound, staring at the decently sized if not barred, and ray shielded windows.

“We can’t turn those ones off,” Mace noted quietly, and Maul turned to look at him, to look at them, burning yellow eyes peering out of that cloak. He did not peel the hood back and Plo remembered those symbols and had to imagine there were more drawn across his skin, but Plo could feel the joy within him. “There is a sound barrier and people on the outside cannot see in. You are secure and your privacy is intact.”

Maul stared at them for a moment and then quietly, “I do not…I do not understand, I…”

“I am sorry, Lord Maul,” Tiq said very softly, and took a step forward, gaining Maul’s attention. “I had not been as careful with the questions as I had hoped. You were looking out of Eeth’s windows and I questioned you about them. You…mentioned the fact that you missed them, and talked about your Master, the way he had taken them from you. We could see no reason to not give you a window when we knew you could not escape from it…”

Maul took that in for a moment a slight grimace on his face, before it lightened, and he finally inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” they said, and Plo handed over the last bundle of herbs.

“There is a copper bowl in the washroom that you can use to prepare everything,” Plo said. “Be careful, please.”

“I will be,” Maul said, taking the herbs and retreating into the cell. The ray shield came back, and he stared at them for one last moment before giving a low bow.

“Good night, Lord Maul,” Depa said, and there was a smile in her voice. “May you find good sleep after hard work.”

“That one, Jedi, I can appreciate,” Maul said with a smirk.

“If you are up to it, Lord Maul,” Tiq said, “I believe the next time you awake we should start on that test so we may start work on your own teaching soon.”

Maul took this in for a moment before finally inclining his head. “Very well. I will…look forward to it.” And then with that he turned to the refresher and the final bit of this ritual.

Plo was delighted. They gave their goodbyes to the Guards, and finally dispersed.

* * *

Alema stood next to Liana, once again finding herself amused at yet _another_ shakeup that the one behind them had caused. A _Sith_ ritual, performed in their own halls. It made her want to _laugh_. The fact that the Council had been forced to work together to contain it, the sheer amount of Hate, and… Oh, there was a part of her that desperately wanted to take that hate from him, that wanted to hold his hands in hers and tell him that he did not have to hold it, that it was hurting him…

Another part of her recognized how important that hate was, and this was the same part that recognized Maul’s choices, Maul’s status as Sith, and Maul’s desire to _remain_ Sith.

None of those choices were ones she wished to contest, and it had been fascinating in a way that she had not expected to realize just how much control and how much work went into being Sith. The rituals, the meditation, the sheer will that needed to be utilized… Everyone knew that the Sith had come from a schism within the Jedi, but it was interesting to see just how integral control remained to them.

Control of a different sort, and the utilization of everything was still very different, but there was nonetheless a very strong parallel, and now that Maul had bound his Wodza, she found that the parallel was perhaps stronger than she had initially thought.

Maul remained out of the collar, and his presence had barely a flicker to it, barely a twitch. And then she knew the ritual had started when that presence turned _Dark_.

It never once grew to the point that the two of them could not work to suppress it, to contain it within that room, but it nonetheless swelled to encompass it, heavy with purpose. However, interestingly enough, once it seemed to realize they were there, what they were trying to do, it pulled back, refocused, and that Dark shifted to something lasered and fine. They no longer had to contain it, and Alema found herself looking towards Liana, surprise filling her.

“ _I forget sometimes how skilled he is in these arts_ ,” Liana said, echoing her own thoughts. “ _He’s so young, it’s hard not to compare him with my own at that age_.”

“What age?” Alema asked, partially teasing, and partially frustrated – breathe it out. “They were unable to get a bead on his age, from what I recall. Something about his horns being as affected by his malnutrition as the rest of him.”

“ _We really ought to make him pick a number_ ,” Liana sighed. “ _If not an exact age, at least a best guess.”_

“Do you think he even knows when he was born?”

The question was a sobering one and the two of them fell silent for a moment.

“ _No_ ,” Liana answered, and it was an answer Alema concurred with.

Alema sighed. “Perhaps we will have him pick out a day for that as well. He needs… _something_. I am sometimes starkly reminded of how little he actually has. Frankly, it makes sense how strongly he clings to the Sith arts when they are literally all he has known and all he has worked on for his entire life. He knows them and he is obviously strong in them.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Liana agreed, and her voice was heavy. “ _I have often considered it when thinking of the fact that he holds to his title so strongly. His Master stripped him of his Apprenticeship, but ultimately Darth Maul holds onto what he was given before, and I do not blame him. The title of Sith Lord is one that he_ earned _, and frankly until his own death, it is his prerogative to find and kill his Master – assuming of course that he’s still alive,_ _and so I wonder a bit whether or not the title of Apprentice was technically his Master’s to take, or rather…if he fulfilled his status as such once he was appointed Lord_.”

Alema was quiet for a moment considering this. “That is a point I had not considered,” she said finally, “the fact that treachery is often the way of the Sith, there likely have been Apprentices that have been discarded and left for dead, only to come back and destroy the one that originally slighted them.”

“ _Force help us if we_ do _teach him_ ,” Liana laughed, “ _we will definitely have to make sure he doesn’t bring that ritual into the Jedi_.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would _never_ ,” Alema rebutted and Liana laughed harder. “He is perfectly aware of what is and is not appropriate among Jedi. He says what’s appropriate in such a _condescending_ way.”

Alema could tell that Liana had started crying through her laughter the moment her mask tilted up, her hands instinctively rising to her face and peeling at it.

“ _Alema, so help me_ ,” Liana finally managed. “ _Oh_ ,” she peeled it far enough away that she could wipe at her eyes and then turned to look at her directly. “ _Stop that_.”

Alema grinned and the two of them finally fell silent.

“ _I am struggling a bit with giving something to the Force,”_ Liana said after a long moment and Alema looked to her friend. “ _I am worried about that test_.”

“What about it?” Alema asked.

“ _I do not think that Maul will necessarily do_ badly…” Liana said finally, “ _I think that he is going to prove to be more intelligent than we are quite prepared for, once he begins to open up properly… But I am worried about his_ emotional _intelligence. I wonder how he is going to react to the knowledge that there is so much that he does not_ know _. I cannot imagine that it would be well_ …”

“Do you think that he will do something in retaliation?”

“ _No_ ,” Liana said, “ _I believe I am simply thinking of it being another thing that will hurt him. And frankly, Alema, I am tired of him being_ hurt, _and I cannot imagine that it would be good for him. I know it will be in the long run, of course, but to have it staring you directly in the face_ …” 

Alema was quiet for a long moment before giving a soft sigh of her own. “I agree,” she answered softly. “But I think that we must trust in the Force and trust in him. He’s been showing us so many good reasons to trust him lately, this will simply be another one of them. And we will be able to teach him, Liana, we are not going to let him continue to be ignorant.”

“ _We’re going to teach him as much as we_ can,” Liana said softly and Alema hesitated before giving a sharp nod.

“And so long as he learns what it is not to hurt then that is the only thing that matters,” Alema said and after a moment Liana nodded. “It is what he wants and what he is expecting, and so that is what we will do our best to give him.”

“ _I think I just wish better for him_.”

“That, my friend, is absolutely something the two of us are aligned on.”

Liana gave a soft sound of agreement, and Alema heard her breathing out a beat later. Alema smiled to herself in satisfaction and the two of them fell silent.

The ritual did not take as long as Alema had thought it would, and it was not long before there was the faint sound of running water as the final bits of the chemical were likely removed from skin, and shortly after that Maul stumbled from the refresher much like he had all those days before, wearing pants for sleep and nothing else.

It was in that moment that Alema could really take in what that ritual means and the sharp realization that not only did his skin somehow look more like blood than it had before – glistening and sharp and wet with it, the black of his tattoos…

“Oh,” Liana said, and Maul’s attention turned to her, that sleepy head tilt he regarded her with tightening something in Alema’s chest. “Apologies, Lord Maul,” Liana said, “I merely had not considered the fact that you…well…your tattoos. They’ve faded. They are not as dark as they were before.”

Maul took that in for a moment and then looked to his hands, taking them in and then he gave a shrug. “They’ll come back,” he said easily.

“I don’t think that’s how tattoos work, darl-…” but before Alema could finish, Maul had flopped face-first into the bed and seemed to fall asleep almost instantly.

There was a long pause.

Alema was not certain who laughed first, only really conscious of the rush to switch from external to internal communication with the Guard next to her, the two of them absolutely howling.

“ _I forgot_!” Liana wheezed, “ _I forgot it’s been ten days_!”

“No wonder he took Depa’s wish so well,” Alema managed, gasping for breath. “Hard work!”

“ _He hides it so well; I would have never thought_!”

“Oh, he must have been _exhausted_! I’ll never joke about the poor boy’s control ever again.”

They laughed until they cried and then finally, after a long pause, Liana quietly whispered, “Darling.”

“Shut up,” Alema retorted, “he _is_! Once you…begin to peel away the very necessary shell, he is absolutely a darling.”

“ _I want to see his face when you call him that,”_ Liana said, “ _oh, I don’t think I’ll survive._ ”

Alema thought of his reaction and then wound up laughing herself. There was truth to that after all. “I’ll have to do it at some point."

“ _You’re going to give the poor dear a…oh no, now I’m doing it. We’re going to give him a heart attack, and he has two hearts_!”

Alema laughed until she cried, until the lingering sharp worry had shifted out of her chest, until she could give it to the Force and finally breathe again. Liana was right. There were plenty of things to worry about, but there was ultimately no point in worrying now. There was nothing they could do but their best, and they would see that through.

Alema only wished she would be there to see the dawn and Maul’s reaction to it. Provided he didn’t sleep for another two days, and frankly she wouldn’t blame him if he did.

* * *

It took a day and a full night for Maul to wake, Liana feeling the faint stirrings, that Dark presence that swelled and reached out, stretching as much as that body which had managed to shuffle sideways during his sleep, back pressed against the wall in that favored sleep position. For a moment Maul lay there unmoving, and then he shifted, sitting upright slowly, his focus on the…ground.

Liana gave a softly whispered, “Alema…” watching as her fellow Guard turned as well, watching Maul has he stared at the sliver of light that poured into his cell.

The ray shield in this room was blue, which did not distort as much as the red one did, giving her plenty of opportunity to see both the way those eyes narrowed and then widened in realization, something in his expression so… Liana felt her heart constrict as Maul turned his head to look over his shoulder, up a bit to where the window rested and then shifted, turning, rising up on his knees on his bed that had been placed right beneath it without thought or hesitation.

For just one moment Maul was full of an unguarded awe, the lines of his shoulders slack, staring out towards the rising sun, the view of Coruscant from the Jedi’s gardens, in that one moment indistinguishable from all the other younglings she had seen watch that view for the very first time. It was a sight that Liana would never tire of, and she watched until the sun fully rose, until it surrounded his head and shoulders, sending his profile across the floor, and submersing him in shadow.

Maul finally looked away, turning around, peering into the cell around him, his eyes squinted slightly as they adjusted to the dimness, and there was something…she couldn’t read in his face. Something tight around his eyes… Maul’s arms wrapped around his knees for a moment, his body so still…and it was so incongruous from anything that they had seen… Maul had fallen right into exercise even after a fugue that lasted three months. Why now, what was…

“What are you thinking, Lord Maul?” Alema asked, her voice so soft, drifting across the length of the cell, and Maul blinked, before looking up at her.

There was a long moment when he said nothing, simply stared at her, stared at them, and then softly, quietly, “I do not understand.”

“Can you try and explain what you don’t understand, darling?” Alema asked.

Maul blinked at her, his chin rising up slightly, looking at her for a moment as though he had never seen anything like her before. Liana laughed, switching to internal speakers in order to do so. “That,” Maul said finally with a dip of his chin, which only made Liana laugh harder. “And…” he paused, before shaking his head. “I do not…” he took a breath and then put his hands over his face for a moment, holding very still. “Do you speak more than Basic?” 

“I do,” Alema answered. “I speak quite a few languages, do you?”

“Yes,” Maul answered slowly, and then looked up at her, for a moment his expression so, “I feel like…like I am trying to communicate in a…language I have never even…heard before. As though I am forced to read it and guess through sight the phonemes and the accents that are used…and I also am unfamiliar with its written form.” Maul stared at her. “I do not know what I am feeling, I recognize it, I…know that it is _something_ , but the words are…I do not know, and I do not know how to _use_ it. I have only known hate and fear and pain and anger for so long I do not…I do not know what to do with these other things. I do not even know what to call them. Does this…does this make sense or am I…” Maul hissed and trailed off again.

“Can you describe it, sweetie?” Liana found herself asking, “can you walk me through what you are feeling? Or…do you mind if I reach for you? Would you mind if I feel?”

Maul hesitated for a moment and then slowly, she felt those mental walls shift a bit, not so much parting as drifting, curtains blowing in the slightest of breezes, and Liana took the invitation for what it was.

The feelings were…tangled, knotted in a way that struck her as though he had been trying to pull it apart to examine it, but the more he pulled the more confused they got until he just…gave up. Liana took a moment and felt at the knot for a moment, pulling at it gently, feeling as Maul’s grip on it tightened in momentary surprise.

“Sorry, Lord Maul,” Liana said gently, “I did not mean to startle you, that is…an impressive tangle of feelings right there.”

“So…I do not even feel in the right way?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Liana whispered, “you feel fine, but it is as you said, you have never spoken the language before, so when you tried to examine it you couldn’t find where it began and where it ended, and so you merely tied it in a big knot. Tiq is going to be coming with your breakfast, and I bet you he’ll be able to help you peel everything apart and organize it. I do not have the training to untangle that for you. I am sorry I am not more help.”

Maul gave a brief nod after a moment, “Thank you for trying.”

“Of course,” Liana answered with a smile. “Out of curiosity though, what languages do you speak?”

Maul blinked. “Huttese, Twi’leki – as well as I can without the necessary lekku, Mando’a, Shyriiwook, and Sith, as well as Basic and Binary.”

“Oh, so few?” Liana asked and Alema burst out laughing, Maul giving a shrug that was almost apologetic.

“I was learning others…”

Liana finally laughed herself, “Goodness! What in the Force prompted you to learn so many? And Binary? Why Binary?”

“It was one of my first…” Maul answered after a long moment of silence. “A droid was the one who raised me for most of my childhood.”

There was a long pause. “Well,” Alema finally said, her voice warm in a way that Liana could see through, but she wondered whether or not Maul could, “that makes sense then.”

Maul inclined his head and then after a brief pause, “you said…Tiq would be coming?”

“Yes,” Liana agreed, “we will let you get ready.”

“Thank you,” Maul said, and fell out of bed to begin the necessary exercises.

By the time he had finished, showered, and was in a far more intense stretching session, Tiq had arrived. Liana was still horrified by the things Maul could do with his back…and his everything. But there was honestly not much she could say that was more horrifying than watching him with his chest and shoulders on the ground, hands pillowed under his chin while his back ached into an obscene scorpion tail that looked a bit like he could put his feet directly onto the top of his head if he decided to point his toes just a little more.

Tiq held his breakfast and paused at seeing what Maul was doing, even as the Guards lowered the ray shield to let him in, Maul looking up to see him.

“Are you sure you have a spine?” Tiq asked him.

Maul answered by shifting himself up into a proper handstand, gaining his balance, and then putting his feet flat on top of his head, toes easily sliding around his horns, so he didn’t cut them.

Tiq stared at him for a long moment. “That’s not making me believe you have a spine.”

Maul grinned at him, before unfolding himself, crossing his legs beneath him and looking at him expectantly.

“Well,” Tiq sighed, “more important things.” He smiled then, giving the tray over, only to pause at the sound of surprise from Liana.

“Your tattoos really have darkened…but…” she frowned. “How is that possible?”

“They were placed on me with Sith Alchemy,” Maul answered, taking the tray from Tiq. “They are not…regular ink, in the way that you would think of it. As my skin heals they heal.”

But…that was not the only thing that Liana could see now that the ray shield was open, and now that she was looking. The red that was still so much more vibrant than it had been, blood red and so dark, was…mired. Lines ran through it that she could see in a way she never had been able to before, trailing across his skin, patterning him in…little bolts of lightning.

Oh.

“And the scars…” Tiq asked softly.

“Why let a lesson fade?”

Oh.

Force help her.

“That isn’t a way I’d teach a lesson,” Tiq said roughly then, sitting down. "In fact, I'd probably call it the worst way."

Maul shrugged noncommittally, taking the tray, and beginning to eat.

Tiq crossed his legs beneath him, and Liana closed the shield.

There was nothing they could do about what had been. They could only work on making sure that the future, his future, was better.

If Liana had her say it would be. She breathed in and gave her worries to the Force.

* * *

Maul sat across from Tiq, eating quietly as Tiq meditated, his mind still wrapped in questions. Every so often he sent small glances to the window, filled with that same strange, knotted bundle that coiled inside of him. Maul did not know where it began and where it ended, just that it was.

Maul finished the tray, taking the water and starting to sip at it.

“Did you wake up in time to see the sunrise?” Tiq asked him and Maul froze, for just a moment thinking of the sight of the sun breaking over the top of the garden, the sight of the sprawling city nearly dazzling in all of its reflective transparisteel… And then he thought of the twisted knot inside of him that had come from that and found himself grimacing. “Maul?” Tiq asked him softly. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Maul closed his eyes. “I do not know the language. I do not have the words. The Guard tried to help me, but it was too tangled for her to understand the feelings inside of me. She said you may be able to help me?”

Tiq smiled at him, the look warm and delighted, “Yes,” he said, “absolutely, I will do my best. That does require you to lower your shields slightly so I can get a read on it, but I will absolutely help you untangle it and give you words for it. Eventually, if you would like, we can work on creating a mental space that is…between for lack of a better word. But it does require a great deal of trust to use effectively, so for now, simply brushing the surface will be enough.”

“Very well…” Maul answered and slowly let his shields lower once again, trying to offer up the tangle within him.

“Oh goodness you have knotted that quite tightly haven’t you,” Tiq said softly, and there was amusement and nothing but…warmth pushed towards him as he said it. Nothing but…

“What is that?”

“What is…?”

Maul hesitated, trying to replicate it to the best of his ability, slowly pushing a rough modicum of the feeling that Tiq had pressed towards him. He had felt it directed at him before, he had felt it from [her], and sometimes from Meltch, but he had not been able to name it then, and he could not name it now.

Tiq blinked as it reached him, and his chin tilted up slightly, “affection,” he said finally. “It is a positive emotion, felt towards someone that you care for. There are different versions of affection, some more platonic, others more intimate, but generally they are all reactions towards someone you like, someone you are fond of.

Maul took this in for a long moment. “Show me again?” he asked softly.

Tiq immediately carefully wrapped the emotion and reached out to him with it, holding it out towards him where Maul could slowly examine it, feel it out, and then slowly let go of it.

Maul closed his eyes, slowly working through his own emotions, his own memories, searching for moments with that warmth and…

There were…more moments with it than Maul had expected.

Some of them were tied up in his childhood, towards a pillar of black that Maul could not name anymore, and that warmth was sour in those moments now, thought of with a bitterness. The thoughts of [her] also sometimes were tinged with this warmth, and that bitter bitter feeling was stronger, tangled with Meltch and… And then with Plo. And then with Eeth and with the one before him, and… Anakin.

These feelings did not have that taint. Maul categorized them slowly, and then quietly, “What if the emotion is bitter?”

“How do you mean?”

“I felt that…towards my Master at times, when I was young. When he praised me. There are moments that I can think of when I felt this…affection towards him. But I do not…wish for that anymore. And they hurt…”

“I think…I would possibly call that either regret, or…perhaps even grief.”

Maul frowned, taking that in. “I see.” And now that he was looking at it, he did. Maul had not regretted before he started talking with the Jedi. He had not had reason to. He was given orders and he executed them, he was not… Maul closed his eyes momentarily, taking in the way his thoughts were going and found yet another tangle wrapping around everything.

“Maul,” Tiq said softly, “what is wrong?”

“I really am just a weapon,” Maul whispered. “I did not think about what my Master told me to do, or why he taught me in the way he did, I just…I _did_ it. I followed his orders, and I followed his teachings… I did not…have cause…for regret. I aimed where he pointed me.”

Tiq was quiet for a very long moment and then softly, “You are _not_ a weapon. Regret and grief both are not…good things to feel, but they are in themselves good. They mean that you recognize that what you did was _wrong_. They mean that you can _grow_. Growing often hurts, but it does lead to good things. Your Master may have caused a stunting of your growth in some ways, but he will not prevent your growth in this. Not anymore, and all of this growth, all of this learning – all of this means that you are Not a weapon.”

Maul took that in for a long moment, staring into those large eyes, taking it in and finally giving a slow nod of his head. 

“Now,” Tiq said softly, “Let me help you with that knot in your chest, and we will go from there.”

“May we…get the test done today.”

Tiq blinked, “Are you sure, Lord Maul?”

“I wish to get this over with, if I am to learn, and if you will not hurt me for mistakes…then I see no reason to not get it over with as soon as possible so I may learn as quickly as possible.”

“…Very well,” Tiq responded with a nod. “We will go for your test after I work to untangle this.”

“Thank you,” Maul said, slowly parted his shields once again and felt Tiq reach out to meet him.

Tiq slowly reached out and carefully smoothed his mental fingers over the knot before him, giving a soft soothing whisper as he felt Maul’s presence twitch. Gently, gently, Tiq began untangling that knot, finding where the emotions began and ended.

_This one_ , Tiq breathed to the one waiting so patiently, feeling as Maul’s attention turned to the bright strand, _this one is awe, wonder, it’s generally a response to beauty, to something that is pleasing. It is a good feeling for a sunrise._

Maul took this in, feeling it, pulling it away from him, and holding it, and Tiq worked on untangling the others. They were messy. Messy and muddled, but that was to be expected. Tiq carefully pulled at another one, tangled around another, deeply intwined, so deeply he wondered a bit whether it was done intentionally.

**_I know these_ ,** Maul thought at him, and carefully peeled it away himself, pulling it back, right until it tangled with something else. **_I don’t know_** _**this**_ , he huffed and Tiq could sense the brief flare of anger, the spark of frustration that lingered much longer than a Jedi’s would, only to be pulled away and… Tiq wondered a bit what he did with those emotions, whether he stored them, categorized them, and when necessary called upon them, but that wasn’t what he was there for at the moment.

He was there for this emotion tangled with the other two, the ones that Maul knew.

Tiq carefully pulled at it, felt the ugly bitterness to it, the pangs of what Tiq recognized as longing and loss, and the feeling deeper, tangled within it…

_Jealousy, envy_ …

**_What are these?_**

Tiq took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. _You grew up in pain and suffering, Maul. You grew up without an understanding of affection, without love and without care. You are jealous of the ones that have, you want what was denied you, and this is…understandable, Maul. It is completely understandable, but these are dangerous emotions to hold because they can lead to resentment, which can lead to hurt – both to you and of the ones that you are jealous of._

**_What do I do with it, then_?** Maul asked, and this was the emotion, this was the feeling that Maul did not pull back into himself, instead holding it there, confusion registering. **_If I cannot hold it…_**

Tiq found himself in the unique position of teaching a Sith how to let go of an emotion. And it was one of the most amazing positions he thought he had ever been in.

_First_ , Tiq said softly, _the most important thing you have to realize is this emotion does nothing. It does not help you and it does not enlighten you. It is connected to the past which cannot be changed, and do you know what is even more important than that, Maul?_

 _**What**?_

_You get to see this sunrise for the rest of the time you are in this cell. And then, when you are finally freed from it, you will be able to see it from whatever room is eventually yours for however long you wish. This view is yours, Maul. You are no longer in your Master’s control, you are no longer wherever your view used to be – you are here, you are with us, and you are safe, and soon you will be free. You will break your chains, and eventually the one that remains will be removed as well. You will be free._

Maul took this in for a moment, and Tiq felt that stirring of emotion within Maul, fluttering underneath the shields, and Maul held the resentment and envy for a moment, for a moment holding it so carefully.

**_I see_** , Maul breathed, the thought drifting past him like a warm breeze. **_I see. What…what then do I do?_**

 _Do you understand that it is useless to you?_ ****

**_Yes, I can see…I can see what you are saying._ **

_Then you…breathe it out, let it go. Accept that it exists, understand why it does, and then…release it. It means nothing to you; it is nothing to you. It is…hollow. And so, you release it to the Force, you release it from your soul. There is no need for it anymore._

Maul hesitated, carefully weighing it, taking in the words, making his decision, and then slowly, carefully began to let it go.

Maul breathed in and breathed out, and Tiq was about to explode.

Maul finally opened his eyes, closing his shields back up and Tiq felt himself beaming.

“That, Maul, was extremely impressive. I am _proud_ of you.” And if Tiq held onto it a little longer than normal…well. That was his business.

And then he breathed it out.


	21. Tests and Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul takes a test... And learns more about loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third official tissue warning, though I do wish to state that there is no character death of any sort in this chapter LOL. There is a brief mention of suicidal ideation but it is not actively something pursued. 
> 
> That out of the way: https://jgvfhl.tumblr.com/post/643591082333143040/more-scenes-from-twin-sons-because-it-is-a - IT IS TIQ!!! TIQ NOW HAS A PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, I'M SHRIEKING!!! JGVFHL has been unreasonably nice to me and has been drawing some absolutely beautiful Twin Sons art, and generally has some nice stuff in general, you should check them out, just know though that this mini-comic makes me *WHEEZE*, every single damn time. Anyway, I'm really happy LOL, it's weird because my character process is generally voices first, so I hadn't even really considered what color he was until I was asked, anyway I decided he was gem colored because he IS a gem XD XD 
> 
> Anyway, anyway, um. Maul gets more hugs. Progress is made. Questions are asked...
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter~

Maul was very aware that the technique that he had utilized was likely a Jedi one, and it was an odd realization to realize that this…was what a Jedi would have to do for every emotion, useful or not. Maul brushed a careful mental finger over the string of ‘awe’ that Tiq had shown him, settling it carefully within him and frowned.

He would see how often that showed up, if it _did_. Maul rather doubted it, but he did not know.

Tiq had been right, that sunrise was something he was going to see every day for as long as he was in this cell… Maul found his gaze drawn briefly to the window before he turned back to Tiq.

“I am going to call Plo and Eeth to accompany us to get you tested,” Tiq said and Maul nodded in agreement. Tiq hesitated then with a sigh, “Lord Maul, are you alright with that collar?”

“Are _you_ alright with the collar?” Maul retorted easily, a brow rising.

“No,” Tiq finally answered with a smile, “I am not. I don’t like the implications, I don’t like…” he rubbed at his eyes for a moment, pinching the scales between them. “Frankly, I’d almost prefer handcuffs.”

“No,” Maul said, firm and uncompromising, feeling something turn in his stomach. “I don’t want to be impeded any more than I have to be, and I do not…I will not be chained like that.”

Tiq took that in for a moment before finally inclining his head. “Very well.” He hesitated, “Lord Maul…are you _truly_ comfortable with that collar around your neck?”

Maul said nothing for a long moment, before sighing. “There are no options that I like,” he said finally. “Ultimately the cuffs restrict my movement but with the collar I at least have the use of my limbs. It is a chain, but it is a chain that is not as restrictive as it could be, and I am willing to accept this for the ability to have full range of motion. I do not wish to be bound more than I care what thoughts may cross another’s mind. I am _not_ an animal, and their thoughts do not make me so. I may be collared, but it is my choice, and ultimately it is something that I will let be put on and something that will be taken off. I am…alright with this.”

Tiq took this in for a moment before giving a firm nod. “Alright,” he said finally, roughly. “You are certain of this?

Maul frowned for a moment. “I have been trained to kill Jedi for most of my life. I have…changed my Wodza, and I now have other goals, other feelings on the matter, but that does not change the fact that this has been my main mission for about as long as I have been alive.” Maul stared at him for a moment, letting that sink in. “I have killed two within your halls, hurt two others severely…I believe it is best for both you and for me that you have me remain bound. This is therefore the method that I would choose above others. Does my reasoning make sense?”

“Yes,” Tiq answered and finally heaved a brief sigh. “Yes it does. Your consideration is…admirable and appreciated. I merely…I wish there were other methods. But I can understand how restricting your movement would be…even less appealing.”

“Thank you,” Maul said then, before his nose wrinkled slightly, “Am I meant to address you as Healer during these talks?”

Tiq smiled at him, “I’m very alright with Tiq, Lord Maul.”

Maul inclined his head slowly, thinking. His title had been one that had been won in fear and blood and agony, trailed across his skin, and something scattered across the stars, and dripping from his hands… It had no use here. Not with someone who had been in his literal thoughts, would _continue_ to be in his mind. Tiq was his better in every way when it came to the affairs of his mind and his heart and the emotions encased within. Maul had no knowledge of how to proceed, how to handle the little glimpses of something brighter than he had ever seen… Tiq may not be claiming the title of Healer or Teacher, but that did not mean he was not owed some respect for what he was doing, was…was willing to do.

Maul made his decision.

“Then, here and in this… Maul is acceptable.”

Tiq stared at him, his gaze startled, those red eyes shifting slightly as they took him in, and Maul waited patiently for the inevitable…

“Thank you,” Tiq said, and smiled, the look warm. “I will be calling Plo and Eeth now, if you would like to continue getting ready.”

“Very well,” Maul answered with a nod, and he walked over to change. He put on his boots and grabbed his tunic. “Thank you for not making a big deal out of it…” he finally managed quietly, facing the other way.

“Internally I am screaming for joy, I assure you,” Tiq answered lightly, “but I will spare you from it.”

“Are you meant to do that?”

“Perhaps not, but it’s internally. Who is going to know?”

“Me.”

“And are you going to tell?”

“That you break Jedi rules?” Maul turned to look at him, giving him as wide a grin as possible, “Yes.”

Tiq laughed until he cried, wiping the tears away and then softly, “oh goodness…” he huffed. “Where in the Force has that sense of humor been hiding?”

Maul frowned. “Why would I be joking?”

Tiq was not the only one who laughed, both of the Guards joining in, the three of them howling with it. Maul sighed, putting his tunic on and then his gloves before grabbing his robe. It was not the same one he had come with, the cut distinctly different and Maul missed some of the flashier elements. The sleeves in particular… Either way, it would keep him covered and that was enough.

“Are you quite finished?” Maul finally asked, turning to look at them.

“Yes,” Tiq managed, gasping. “Oh… I haven’t laughed like that in so long…” he wiped his eyes again.

Maul hummed, pulling the robe on, and waiting expectantly, even though… There was that lingering question… “Are you _allowed_ to hold it?”

Tiq smiled at him. “I am not allowed to _hold_ it, no,” Tiq answered. “But I _can_ feel it. Ultimately being able to feel and understand what it is that I am feeling is a very important part of being a Jedi. However, it is knowing how to _let it go_ that is what makes us.”

“I see,” Maul frowned. “Why do you let them go?”

“Well,” Tiq hesitated, “perhaps there is an example to be made in what you yourself have done.”

“Perhaps,” Maul tilted his head.

“Would you have allowed someone to live that had killed two of your own?”

Maul tilted his head slowly, thinking. Maul had killed two of his own already. Maul had cut out his hearts. Maul said nothing and in his silence, Tiq continued quietly.

“By putting that emotion away, we were able to see beyond our own loss to see you more clearly,” Tiq said. “To be a Jedi is to see beyond your own pain, to see beyond your own love. We are meant to let the Force guide us, but that does not mean we do not feel. I have a great deal of pride and even joy in what you do at times…”

“But I make choices,” Maul said tilting his head, “and if I make the wrong ones then ultimately you are meant to stop me.”

Tiq hesitated before finally, softly, “Yes.”

“What an interesting bind you put yourselves in.”

“And yet it is something that you directly benefit from.”

Maul tilted his head in acknowledgement and softly, his head full of loss and death, “killing me would still probably be easier.”

Tiq narrowed his eyes at him slightly, his head tilting, but whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by the appearance of Eeth and Plo. Tiq looked to them and smiled in welcome, before turning back to Maul with an expression that said very firmly ‘we will talk later and don’t think you can get out of it.’

Maul tipped him his own grin and then turned to the other two.

“Well,” Tiq said then, smiling, but hesitated as Eeth approached with that collar. Maul took it when Eeth handed it out and with a grimace clipped it around his own throat.

The feeling of the Force sliding away from him was an ugly one, but it would be over soon. It would not be forever.

Maul took a few deep breaths and then looked to the others.

“Well,” Eeth said, “shall we get this over with as quickly as we can in order to get that off as soon as possible?”

“Please,” Maul agreed.

“Very well, Maul,” Tiq said, “follow us.”

There was a pause as Plo and Eeth seemed to realize the lack of his title, the two of them looking at him with something that might have been realization or… Hmm.

Maul tilted his head, “Very well, Tiq.”

“You dropped the title?” Plo asked him.

Maul paused for a moment and then looked to him, “Where appropriate. You, I think, can go back to calling me Lord.”

Eeth snorted. It was a sudden and ugly sound and he immediately covered his face with his hands, laughing.

Plo just grinned at him, “Very well, my Lord,” he said, “after you.”

Maul followed Tiq who led the way, Eeth stumbling after them a few beats later, managing to put the laughter aside and breathe it out, coming up to stand next to Tiq while the Guards moved to either side once again, Plo taking up the rear. Maul still felt a bit like he was being escorted to execution.

Maul remembered the test and found his nose wrinkling, pulling the hood over his head.

It might as well be an execution. Maul listened to Tiq promising that he could not fail, that there was no way to disappoint, and took that in as well as he could.

His palms tingled, Maul balled his hands into fists and ignored it.

* * *

Tiq watched quietly as Maul set up for the testing from a different room with a transparisteel divider, watching as he placed the headset on and tested the microphone. Maul finished adjusting everything and finally looked towards Tiq and gave a quiet nod.

The headset turned on, and the test began.

“Here we go…” Eeth said quietly next to him. Tiq had known that this test was likely going to be nerve-wracking and his choice in the ones to escort them had been bound by his knowledge that Maul was familiar with the two men next to him the most, which would have hopefully helped him relax. Maul’s tendency and ability to joke with them was very important, particularly now when he was obviously so tense. Tiq had done everything he could to make sure that Maul was calm and able to take the test as well as possible, short of not having it entirely, but that would not help any of them ultimately.

In the end, the idea of an electric shock had been so distasteful that Tiq had removed the knowledge of if an answer was right or wrong entirely and hoped that would mean Maul felt safer in his answers.

Maul would get his results afterwards.

The test was organized by category, math, science, the language arts, history and politics, and finally the one that Tiq had added on himself – emotional intelligence.

Tiq had created the category years ago and had updated it consistently mostly as a pet-project, something he worked on when he wanted to see whether or not the Jedi themselves were becoming too distant from the ones that they saved. It was not good to detach themselves totally from the ones that used emotions, that kept them. They needed to be able to recognize them in others so they could work better to help. Obviously, the Force did help with that, but there had been moments when the Force was either lost to them, or the ones involved were good at shielding – not even to keep them away, just naturally. It happened sometimes, and so Tiq had put the test together to help them with just…recognizing it in people.

That and it helped him with his own understanding.

As it was, this was the test that Tiq was partially dreading. 

Maul had been raised by an…unknown and a Droid, and from what he had heard he rather figured that that had been it for much of his formative years. Learning that Maul had not been held… His issues with empathy, his complete lack of understanding, the question of mourning…

And then there had been his comment earlier. Tiq did not let comments like that go unremarked upon. He had been a Mind Healer too long and he was very aware of the danger in such ‘jokes.’ Particularly in someone who had already shown a tendency towards self-harm.

Tiq took a breath, and breathed it out, focusing instead up on the scores that were already coming through and…

Oh.

Oh _wow_.

Tiq watched with wide eyes as the results came through and… How quickly had Maul said he’d been expected to answer? Thirty seconds?

Well. If Tiq had doubted it before he did not now.

Tiq idly noticed that Plo and Eeth had moved to better watch the results as they flickered past, Eeth leaning up against the wall with his hand over his mouth like he was trying to contain his laughter, and Plo merely standing at almost parade-rest, and Tiq could tell that he was just about beaming.

Tiq honestly didn’t blame him, finding his eyes crinkling into a wide smile, amusement pulsing through him as he watched the green ‘correct’ sign flicker after just about every answer. There were some that were wrong, and marked as such, but there were moments when Maul seemed to pause, clearly visibly thinking for a moment and then he would specify a question he had gotten wrong and correct it.

Eeth had finally started cackling.

“Oh no!” he gasped, “Oh no, we have another one!”

Tiq laughed himself, knowing precisely what he was referring to, as after the language had been switched to Huttese so Anakin could read it, he had blazed his way through this part of the test, too. Not as quickly, and he had not caught his mistakes, but Maul had been at this for obvious years, and it seemed that his Master had just been more thorough.

When it switched to star charts and distances to hyperspace lanes and the computations necessary to do so manually – not truly necessary, but sometimes an important skill, Maul was able to run through them easily, taking the scrap paper they had left him so he could run the computations he needed. Tiq noticed that he seemed to only scribble out partials, but when he gave the answers they were correct.

That…was impressive. What in the Force had his Master been teaching him?

Why?

His questions were irrelevant for the moment, Maul answering the questions with the same level of speed and proficiency. Language Arts was something he was a bit surprised by as Maul seemed to keep relatively quiet, though…his entire grasp on the fundamentals of conversation and linguistics was…very thorough. And then, as expected it switched to Maul’s understanding of the classics, and shifted more towards stories and theater, and Maul started fumbling. He kept with it for a while, before finally growing frustrated and shaking his head, making a slicing motion.

Tiq skipped the rest of the section. 

“Well,” Plo said, amusement radiating from him, “we can certainly work with that. We just help him read more.”

“Indeed,” Tiq nodded.

Tiq had not been expecting much from politics, and history either, so watched it with a certain level of wariness.

Tiq was…surprised, therefore, when Maul began a very patchwork series of answers that had their gaps, but Maul was a lot more informed than he had thought. The topics jumped all over the place, but what he knew, Maul _knew_ , and he could go into in great detail. This…was also interesting. The gaps were wide, and Maul was sometimes evidently very frustrated about it, but there were sections…

Tiq was beginning to wonder about that _Why_.

Finally, the test that Tiq had been partially dreading started, and Maul fell silent.

Maul motioned for the question to be skipped…and then the next…he gave a quiet stab at the next one, got a wrong answer and seemed to Know, because he grimaced, and waved a hand. Oh.

Well.

Tiq had expected that. But he had also asked Maul to go through and give him his absolute best guess, to try and see what he could do. But the more it went on without an answer, the more Maul stabbed at something with what had to be an almost frustrated hope… Tiq called the test. It wasn’t fair at this point, and it wasn’t right. Maul had done so well with almost everything else, Tiq would not let this be the thing that robbed that from him.

Tiq took a deep breath, breathed out the lingering worries and finally entered the testing room, finding Maul taking the headset off with a grimace.

“Decided to put me out of your misery?” Maul asked him and Tiq blinked, paused, and then finally burst out laughing, Plo and Eeth joining him as what he was saying registered with them, and they entered afterwards, smiling.

“I was hoping to take you out of yours,” Tiq returned finally, sitting down before him on the open chair, Maul taking a breath and sighing, leaning back. “That was good, Maul,” Tiq finally said. “It was about what I expected, and it is not anything that we have to worry about. We will work on it together. However, with that said, I did not expect for the rest of that test!”

Maul hesitated, “Was it…unsatisfactory?”

“ _Unsatisfactory_?” Eeth managed before Tiq could open his mouth, “my Lord Maul, it was incredible!”

Maul blinked.

“You know more about hyperspace lanes and piloting within them than I do, and I have to be at least twice your age,” Eeth said, shaking his head.

“Eeth is correct, in a lot of areas you are in the highest percentile,” Tiq said. “There are some major gaps in your learning, but they were…not as extensive as I at first believed.”

Maul hesitated for a moment before, “that is…good?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Tiq smiled. “There…” he hesitated. “Are you still expecting to be punished for wrong answers?”

Maul fell silent.

“There won’t be any punishment,” Tiq stated firmly and clearly. “You did well. Though…” Tiq sighed. “We…have not asked you something that I feel was perhaps a bit…negligent on our parts.”

Maul tilted his head in reply, questioning.

“What precisely were you trained for?”

Maul hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth to answer and then slowly, a sort of aching realization sliding across his face, closed it.

“This, too, then?” Tiq asked him softly. “Your Master’s face, his voice…and what he made you do?”

Maul hesitated for a moment, his eyes closing. “I remember…Cog Hive Seven. And I remember destabilizing Black Sun. I remember…many deaths, many lost, I do not…” he hesitated. “I do not remember what it was all _for_. I do not know.”

“ _You_ were the one who destabilized Black Sun?” Eeth asked, dropping to sit next to him, staring at Maul with… Frankly, Tiq rather seconded that response, feeling himself sitting up straighter, his mind dancing through possibilities.

It was obvious that his Master did not want them to figure out what Maul had been doing, that his plans were going to be jeopardized, so that… Perhaps, put it more on the idea of the political, on… _Upheaval_.

But Tiq had no way of knowing, and _Maul_ did not know, and that… Tiq shook his head slowly. To cut so much of his memories but leave all of that knowledge… Tiq could not even properly express his own shock at it. Black Sun had been dangerous, a true Criminal Empire…

_Maul_ had destabilized it. A year ago… Tiq now had more questions. He also had to look up Cog Hive Seven, see what it was… Tiq thought he remembered talks about such, but the Jedi had not gotten involved…

Still. Black Sun was a feat in and of itself. He would do more research later. For now, Tiq had gotten his answers and he was…well. Not _pleased_ , Tiq would have preferred for Maul to know what he had done, to know…frankly _anything_. But it did not surprise him that Maul just didn’t.

His Master had been too thorough, and the one who suffered the consequences for it was Maul, and…of course, whoever Maul had hurt.

But there was nothing they could do about what had been, and doubly so now that Maul did not remember who he had even hurt. The only thing they could focus on was the future and that was what they would do. And then briefly, worriedly,

“Do you remember Naboo? Do you remember how you came to be here?”

“Yes,” Maul answered, “I was there to make the Queen sign a treaty with the Trade Federation – to make the blockade around the planet legal.”

“Do you know what the overarching goal was?”

Maul paused, his mouth slowly pulling into a grimace and then finally, softly, “No.”

“Well,” Tiq said then. “That’s alright. We will figure something out, Maul. As it is, we will look up Cog Hive Seven.” Maul gave a brief grimace but said nothing to the contrary. “Can you describe what you did to Black Sun?”

Maul shrugged roughly, “it was a simple matter of killing the Leader and the ones around him.”

“…Perhaps you were mainly trained as an assassin?” Plo offered thoughtfully. “It would go with your main skillset.”

“Perhaps,” Maul agreed, and Tiq was grateful to Plo. Trying to fill in some of those gaps was so important, and Tiq would work on doing that as well, or at least… He would work on softening those edges.

So much had been torn from Maul, so much… Maul had been _close_ to what was happening.

It was…worrying, particularly as the memories had not been glossed or shifted over, they had simply been stolen, removed entirely.

Unless given back by the one who stole them, they would not come back.

Frankly, Tiq was amazed at how well Maul seemed to be handling his lack, though… Tiq rather thought that Maul knew the emotions that he would be feeling. Tiq thought that he would be working on fortifying them, placing them where they belonged and pinning them in place. Control was a big part of the Sith process, and Maul’s will had been Beskar before everything was taken. This was something that he seemed to have applied that will to.

Tiq was both grateful and…not. He was not. It hurt to know how used to having things taken from him Maul seemed to be. It was just his lot in life, his…

Tiq breathed it out. It would do nothing for Maul if he held it.

“You can build something new,” Tiq said then, and the others nodded. “You are not…you are not bound by your past, by what you have done. Your choices are what define you, and you now have the opportunity to make some very different choices. You already have made them! You are growing all the time, Maul.” Tiq was quiet for a long moment, and the rest were silent, recognizing that he had more to say, and finally, softly, “I do not know precisely what you are feeling. I do not know what it would be like to not have my memories, but I have every faith that you will redefine yourself and have been redefining yourself the entire time. Your Master no longer defines who you are and what your title is, or what your job was. _You_ decide that.”

Maul took this in for a moment, his head bowing, so still, before he finally tipped his head in rough agreement.

“Well,” Tiq took a breath. “I have the results I wanted. We will begin working on a curriculum for you. You will learn, Maul and we will teach you. Now!” Tiq clapped his hands together and smiled. “Because you’ve done so well, and it has been a while, would you like to go to the training rooms? It is of course the middle of the day, so we will be taking you through crowded areas, but you need to get used to being around Jedi and they need to get used to you.”

Maul stared at him, his eyes wide, shock and… “But I…did not…”

“You did splendidly,” Eeth denied. “So, how about it? I have loaned my personal double-bladed practice saber to be utilized if you would like.”

Maul focused on Eeth, and Tiq rather thought if he was more prone to showing it he would be jumping for joy. “Yours?”

“Yes,” Eeth smiled, “it’s not something I utilize in actual combat, but I do find that it is a useful thing to practice with. I have no problem with you utilizing it.”

Maul finally inclined his head, “Yes,” he said, “please.”

“Very well, Lord Maul,” Tiq smiled, returning to the title as he was no longer acting as Healer, which he rather thought Maul had meant when he granted him permission. They escorted Maul out again, letting him pull his hood up.

Maul handled everything extremely well, better than Tiq had thought he would. He walked with his head straight-ahead, ignoring everything to the right and left of him, his chin tilted just so. Maul’s eyes had a natural luminescence to them even without the Sith backing, which meant when they did shift it was obvious, but there was no confrontation. He did watch, and Tiq rather thought he did tense, but frankly that was expected.

When they finally got to the elevator he put his back to the wall and did not move for a moment. When they settled around him he still did not move but he seemed to relax a bit.

“You did well,” Plo said with a smile.

Maul regarded him from the inside of that hood but said nothing.

The doors finally opened, and they were able to return to the training room that Maul had been in before, and he relaxed fully, looking around in interest.

“Warm up first,” Eeth said, and walked over to where his practice saber rested. “Then I’ll let you use it.”

Maul took the hood off and grinned at him, Tiq reaching over to take that collar off.

Maul breathed in and that spark ignited, and he grinned, sliding the robe off onto the floor. 

Tiq realized as that very controlled burn started that Maul had not had an opportunity to work with his new Chwûq or Wodza since he finished binding them.

This might be interesting.

He also wasn’t surprised when shortly after Maul began running through a warmup that his burning attracted others.

Yaddle was one of the first, followed by Even, neither of whom having watched Maul train before. It did not escape Tiq’s notice that Maul seemed to be accustomed to training with an audience, barely acknowledging them past the initial inclination of his head. He ran through stretches and worked himself up towards Force usage, and that burn was… _different_ than Tiq remembered, slower, and yet…almost _oilier_ , somehow. It _stuck_ and seemed to be ready to be stoked into further flame at a moment’s notice.

Maul’s presence was Dark, Tiq decided, and it had grown stronger, steadier, the flame a steady roar instead of the wildly flickering embers of before. Though, as Maul seemed to pour more into it, they started flickering, though even so it remained a powerful burn, a solid wall of flame instead of the eruption it had been before.

Maul finally reached out with the Force and…

Tiq watched as the pillars were once again realigned, lifting them, and moving them across the room, before he took a brief running start, leaping to one, ricocheting off of it, moving another to use that as another platform, and moving another to catch him. He almost _bounced_ between them, working himself up to a full leaping spin that launched him from one end of the room to the other, for the simple fact that he could do it.

Tiq found himself smiling.

When Maul finally caught himself on the netting and rolled through it, dangling to drop to the ground below with a similar death-defying refusal to catch himself until he was in danger of becoming paste on the ground below, it was with a finality that suggested the warmup was over. Eeth clearly agreed.

That double-bladed saber was tossed, and Maul caught it in one hand.

Tiq had seen the Guards work before, but the opportunity to truly watch them practice was limited as they kept to themselves. This therefore meant that Tiq had little experience with someone who utilized the saberstaff as a primary weapon, but it was obvious as Maul caught it, twirling it in that singular hand for a moment, testing the weight to it, the length, the heft, and finally lowered it down before him…that Tiq was about to watch an expert at work.

Maul fell into an opening stance, an almost salute that once again felt somehow more like a taunt, and then the blades ignited, one after the other, a hand opening behind him, the saberstaff held out in front of him horizontally. Those eyes burned with fire, and Maul _moved_.

Tiq had not seen Eeth train with the double-bladed saber. As he was not a Council Member generally this room was not one he had utilized, and similarly he had not seen many others work with at as well. Generally, the saberstaff was considered to be a more niche weapon, one that wasn’t commonly utilized. There was one in the Order that he was aware of, a Pong Krell, that utilized two, but he had never seen it wielded.

Now that it was in motion it was very clear that Tiq was watching a _Master_ at work and it was _beautiful_.

Maul started with slow and smooth movements, more to grow used to the blade he was holding, the green blades running through an improvised Shii-Cho kata, only to speed up, to grow more confident, and finally to erupt into the power and ferocity resplendent in Juyo. The burst of flame was tinged with joy, with delight, and yet pierced through with something colder, angrier.

Chwûq was still at the heart of this style it seemed, though Tiq had never felt Maul’s Chwûq as anything other than an inferno. It was interesting to think that perhaps Chwûq only burned as hot as it did in comparison to Hate.

Interesting.

Either way as Maul grew more confident with the saber he began maneuvering it around him, twisting and leaping and falling into Ataru with the feeling of someone that just wanted to _move_ , that was just enjoying movement for the sake of it. Understandable, frankly.

It did not take a Mind Healer to see that Maul found Joy in a fight, found Joy in the movements of a saber, and Tiq was grateful, even as a part of him worried. There was more to find joy in than blood, and Tiq hoped that this is not what he ultimately enjoyed. But frankly, Tiq was glad he had _something_.

To have nothing at all would be too much for anyone, Beskar will or not.

* * *

Plo watched Maul move through his katas and sent a brief look towards Tiq, the Mind Healer catching the gentle prod he sent him in the Force, meeting his gaze immediately. Plo drifted his head over towards the other training sabers, and Tiq hesitated, frowning slightly, and looking back to Maul, before tilting his head towards the Droids, and then sliding it back towards Plo.

Excellent.

The training droids that had already grown familiar with Maul engaged, coming to attention, taking their steps forward, training sabers buzzing, and Maul turned to mark them, his hold on the saberstaff adjusting.

The Droids circled him, spinning their two sabers, ready, almost taunting, and Maul grinned wide, before suddenly snapping out towards one of them with a full lunging thrust, sliding the blades from one side of his body to the other and when they went to block, continued his forward momentum, leaping into a cartwheel that ultimately blocked each retaliating slice, and upon landing behind it, managed to drive his blade straight through its back, pulling his saber out and dropping into an opening stance facing the other.

Well.

If there was any doubt that the saberstaff was the one Maul had spent the most time perfecting, that was gone.

The remaining Droid put up a longer and much better fight, forcing Maul to give ground, to actively defend, spinning into and out of attacks, and once again utilizing more of his body. Plo had seen Maul utilize Juyo, and Jar’Kai to impressive success… He was surprised therefore to see Maul using Niman.

Niman was something he had not expected at all as the form had none of the high-powered attacks, none of the focus on aggression, and ultimately was more balanced, with heavy utilization of the Force. It was also considered to be more of a Jedi standard – sometimes called the Diplomat form. But Maul once again utilized it like he’d been born for it. There was still, though, moments when Maul’s fire seemed to flicker out of control, that he relied too strongly on hate.

Plo wondered about that, whether that would fade, and his aggression would come under control as Maul grew more used to his Chwûq – which Plo knew had become much stronger than it ever had been, or if it would be something of a handicap for the rest of his training. That…was frankly not something he liked. And he was beginning to think it really had been put there on purpose – a cowardly Master not seeing the true loyalty that Maul had been willing to give him removing his ability to kill him, and similarly jeopardizing Maul’s ability to operate at a successful level.

But the only way Plo could prove that was to actively duel him… And frankly Plo was more than tempted, he rather thought he was going to do it. He would see whether fighting him would cause Maul to shift away from that hate - if it was even possible. Because he rather thought that Maul bore no hate towards him, and more importantly, Tiq had agreed.

Tiq agreeing suggested that he thought there was no reason for concern, or at least trusted in them to both be professional, and for their own ability to catch any slips, and Plo had known that Maul had been interested in a duel for a long time. At this point he rather thought there was no reason not to oblige.

Plo had been curious himself.

Maul finally cut down the Droid, and Plo immediately utilized the Force, sliding them both out of the way from the training mats, calling a training saber to his hand and igniting it, falling into the opening stance to Ataru.

Maul took this in for a moment, Sith eyes flickering across him, surprise, and shock, and then a wide grin slowly pulled across his face, and he shifted his own stance… Juyo.

Plo rather thought this would be fun. But Plo watched as Maul’s expression faded and he hesitated, his blades lowering.

“I do not…duel,” he said finally, “it’s never been about surrender, I was trained to fight for my life.”

Plo took this in for a moment and finally inclined his head. “As well as you can,” he said, “if it is becoming too much we will call a halt. Do you believe you can stop?”

Maul hesitated, shifting his stance before finally raising that saberstaff once more, and his gaze burned. “I _will_ stop.”

Plo took a breath, watched as Maul lowered himself further into position…

And Plo surrendered to the Force.

* * *

Eeth watched with a feeling of bated breath as Plo leapt into attack. Maul backed away, catching the blade and spinning through it and Eeth knew that his saberstaff had never been more expertly handled. He watched as the two of them clashed, felt Maul’s heat roar against Plo’s cool calm, rising up in flickers of rage and hate, only to be suffocated again a beat after it happened.

The two of them worked each other back and forth across the mats, the ferocity of Juyo meeting the aggression of Ataru, neither one of them letting up, always ready to take whatever avenue the other left, and Eeth was rather surprised to see how often Maul kicked out.

He used his body as much as he did his blade, pushing Plo back, knocking him away with fist, foot, and blade… The ferocity the form was known for came out in sudden and sharp bursts of violence, and Plo caught and matched it. Plo was considered one of the best duelists in the Order, and while Maul was skilled… Plo was definitely better.

Plo was sent leaping back from twists and corkscrews and then, once he had decided he had enough of a handle on him, Plo began chipping away at those weaknesses and unleashed his _own_ series of attacks.

Maul still had a tendency to overextend, to let himself pursue where he should have retreated, and Plo was very good at pointing those moments out to him.

The problem was, and it was as Maul had said… Maul had not ever been trained to duel, and he seemed to have been trained in a way where the consistent little breaks of his guard and the easy slide through would have likely been much worse than the slight threat of burning that Plo’s own saber gave. The closer that Plo got to defeating him the more Maul seemed to retreat naturally into Chwûq, and the more he did that…

Eeth saw the explosion coming, and Plo did, too, immediately shifting to really defend, to really pull back, actively retreating from the inferno of HATE that Maul seemed to rage into, and Eeth was moving his hands up, ready to interfere, as Maul managed to send Plo’s blade to the side and spun right around into a kick that was aiming directly towards Plo’s rebreather…

Eeth was not the only one that shouted out “NO,” was not the only one that reached… But Eeth could see the moment Maul gained control, the moment he stopped before they even managed to grab him with the Force and pull him back, before Plo had even managed to properly block – and he would have, and it would have been fine, but that was not quite enough for Maul, who surrendered to the pull of the Force that jerked him back, letting himself be dropped to the mat.

Maul had dropped the saberstaff and lay there on his back, unmoving, breathing hard, almost gasping oxygen in, his hands on his horns and pulling, pulling…

Tiq walked forward immediately, looking a bit like he was about to…

And then Plo softly cleared his throat, Tiq hesitating, his gaze shooting towards him immediately… Maul still lay there unmoving, but when Plo walked forward, disengaging his lightsaber and holding out his hand, he finally looked up to him.

“Well, my Lord,” Plo said softly, his voice so gentle, his expression so warm, “I believe we might have to find an alternative to dueling… At least until you can learn how to keep all of that contained.”

Maul hesitated for a moment, taking in that hand, taking in that warmth, taking him in, and finally, softly. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t have…”

“I know,” Plo smiled, “I would have stopped you. And I did see you stop yourself. You made good on your word.”

Maul stared at that hand and his expression twisted slowly. “I do not hate you.”

“I know, my Lord,” Plo’s smile turned gentle. “It is alright. You have a way that you have been trained and it takes a while to unlearn such things. But I do believe that you _do_ have to unlearn it. You were doing much better before you began giving into it.”

Maul frowned slightly. “I do not know…how.”

“You hold onto other emotions before you actively fight,” Plo pointed out, “perhaps there is a way to find a way to have the two meet. I may have an idea, would you let me pull you up?”

Maul hesitated and then finally took that hand, and Plo pulled him up to his feet, Maul standing there for a moment, hesitating, looking perhaps a bit like… Oh, please let it be…

“Come here,” Plo soothed softly, and pulled Maul close, the other man actively leaning into the hold. Eeth did not hear what Plo said, but he was good enough to walk over to Tiq, taking a breath and letting it out.

Maul needed more hugs like that, and frankly it was a good way to expel the heat, Eeth noticed, Maul cooling a good deal faster than he had before, the lingering flicks of fire slowly dying out until it rumbled at the usual level.

“Alright,” Plo said then, and Eeth turned his attention back. “Let’s try something else.”

* * *

Even felt the last reservations fall away when Maul obviously hesitated, unsure how to ask for the hug that he apparently dearly wanted, turning his attention to Yaddle, who smiled at him, all of them allowing them a momentary bit of privacy. It had been a _mistake_ , Maul had lost control in a way he warned might happen, and ultimately had regained control before he had hurt. It was good enough for Even.

Yaddle hummed quietly and Even turned his attention to her, listening to the soft whisper that the others would not hear, the quiet, “proud of his growth, I am.”

Even inclined his head in brief agreement and turned his attention to Tiq, who looked a bit ruffled, but was in the process of breathing out. Tiq had agreed it would be okay, but they all made mistakes, and Tiq had been one of the first to catch when Maul went too far, him having reached out the quickest.

Tiq turned his attention to the two of them and walked over finally, rubbing at his eyes.

“Stopped he did,” Yaddle noted, gently, and Tiq paused, before smiling at her.

“He did,” Tiq agreed. Eeth approached last and smiled at them.

“So,” Eeth said then, “what do you think Plo is going to try?”

Yaddle laughed quietly, “Who can say,” she said, waving a hand. “Find out we will.”

Plo finally backed away and Maul stepped away as well, calling the saberstaff back to him after Plo indicated he take it, hesitating for a moment before finally igniting it.

“Alright,” Plo said, “I do not wish for you to catch my saber with your own,” he said. “What you are going to do is attempt to get away _physically_. We will still swing, the goal will still be to connect to the other, but what you need to do is instead of retaliating with a parry or a repost – you are going to move. For example, if I swing like this,” he swung his sword diagonally, “you will move…” Maul hesitated, before leaning back, balancing precariously as the saber continued its diagonal movement, gliding down his body without making contact, and Plo laughed, “Very well, and then you move to hit me…”

Maul frowned before sliding his own blade in a low sweep, Plo leaping over it and back.

“And I would…” Plo made a lunging thrust that Maul fell under, sweeping his saber up and causing Plo to lean back, and duck under, spinning the blade down and Maul leapt up and forward, stabbing out, which led to Plo spinning beside him and sending the saber to his back, Maul bowing forward and coming around with a kick, Plo spinning around it and giving his own.

And the more they moved the more confident they got, this rule of no contact changing the goal just enough that Maul seemed to drift from his Chwûq entirely, and as he drifted away, as he focused on movement, as he focused on the…

“It’s a dance…” Tiq whispered, “they’re _dancing_.”

And Even could see it, could see the way the two of them almost twirled around each other, sliding into and out of actual forms, the goal focused entirely on movement, on the _dance_ , and that was where Maul really began to shine.

Because it was obvious that the thing that Maul loved the most was movement, and the excuse to do it without threat, without real attempt to hurt or to kill, that showed just how potent his skill truly was, and it was beautiful.

There was no overextension, no reaching, no allowing himself to be baited… And as Maul fell further into it, as it became understood what that body could do, it became increasingly obvious that his Master had been training him wrong, because Maul was a well-honed weapon, and when given the chance to use his body as it should be, without the interference of those eruptions of fire…

Maul was obviously deadly.

And if it weren’t for the way that Maul reveled in that movement, if it weren’t for the way that he rejoiced… Maul would have made one impressive Jedi.

As it was, he would make one impressive Sith.

The irony of the fact that they seemed to be training him how to be a better one was not lost to him.

Even found himself grinning.

Things had gotten weird after Anakin intervened…but he couldn’t say he disliked the changes. Maul was not the only one learning and growing.

The Council was doing much of that itself.

When they finally came to a halt, Maul gave a bow to Plo, who returned it, and there was a brief smile.

The collar had to be returned, and they had to bring him back to his cell, but nonetheless, there had been progress made today.

It was only as he looked to Tiq that Even thought that there might be more yet to be made.

* * *

Maul allowed himself to be collared, finding himself buzzing internally, and that buzz continued even as he felt the Force slip away.

That had been…enjoyable, something he’d never tried before, and yet had found pushed his skill and similarly gave him the opportunity to focus in a way he was…unused to. Maul did not understand.

Maul had recognized in the fight with Plo how much he tended to overextend, how easy it sometimes was for Plo to tag him and… There had been an eruption, he had not been expecting it, and it had nearly overtaken him… But Maul had promised, and so Maul had stopped, even when…

There was a part of him that still quailed at the realization he had been once again going for that mask. He knew that Plo was going to block the blow, that the others had been quick to stop him, and even that Maul himself had stopped… But… But.

Plo holding him close, letting him feel that he still breathed, that he was still alive and…

“You didn’t hurt me,” Plo had told him, “do not use that slip to hurt yourself.”

Maul had not known exactly what that meant, but he had allowed himself to be held until he had steadied, and then he had pulled away and… Been allowed to try something new.

Maul had enjoyed that with everything in him, had barely heard Tiq’s quiet declaration that it was dancing and… Maul thought it might qualify. Either way, it had come with a clarity he wanted, he _needed_. If he could find a way to marry that with his own ferocity then he could be so much more than what he was…

Why had he not been taught how to do that? Why had his Master focused so strongly on his Chwûq when he had pushed Plo to further extremes than he ever had in the initial fight when not even aiming to win when he had just…grazed it. Had let it underly everything, but did not focus it, had drawn upon it but not aimed it…

Maul did not know, and he was growing more and more frustrated with how everything seemed to have been designed to cripple him.

But Maul had been…he had been…

Maul was aware he was getting frustrated. Maul was aware that he hated. When they finally returned him to his cell, Maul was aware that he burned.

Tiq blinked at him looking a bit surprised at the sudden wash of the feeling when he finally took the collar off.

“Apologies,” Maul said. “It is not towards you.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be…” Tiq sighed and the others slowly bowed and left, Plo making a promise to bring back his food for lunch. Maul had not been aware that it had taken so much time already. Tiq was quiet for a moment, before gesturing towards the floor in a sort of ‘shall we’ gesture, and sunk to the ground, Maul following after. “Would you like to meditate for a moment? I understand that that’s meant to go after exercise, and then stretching you said, correct?”

Maul hesitated and finally sighed, dipping his head.

“I will join you if you do not mind,” Tiq said, “though perhaps I will keep my distance.” He smiled and shifted away, heading to the farthest corner, before Tiq hesitated and looked at him. “Maul,” he said then, thoughtfully, “would you like to try and meditate on something other than rage?”

Maul blinked, frowning slightly, and then slowly shifted through his memories until he found that… Warmth, that feeling that burned whenever Plo pulled him close and hugged him… Maul focused on that for a moment, testing it for integrity, seeing how well it could hold up. Finally, when he thought it might actually be workable, he closed his eyes, and dove into it.

It was…strange, very different to anything he had ever done, warmth without pain, strength without resistance… It burned within him, and he burned with it, and it was…

Good.

He also found that the lingering resentment towards his Master had shifted, fading.

Something else was happening. Maul was finding his gaps and he was working on closing them.

Maul would get better, and they…they were _helping_ him.

Maul finally released the emotion and found himself feeling almost…light.

It was a strange thing.

Maul was not sure if he liked it.

Tiq though rather looked like he was beaming, “How do you feel?”

“Odd,” Maul answered honestly and Tiq laughed, though there was a…perhaps bitterness to it.

“I would expect so,” Tiq answered finally. “Do you think you could utilize it to grow stronger?”

Maul frowned, thought of strength without resistance and wondered slightly. “I do not know,” he said finally. “I would have to work with it, but I am not sure yet how to, or where its limits are.”

“Understandable,” Tiq said finally and then sighed. “Maul…” he said gently, and Maul went to attention, staring at him directly. “When you spoke on how it would be easier to just kill you…”

Maul frowned slightly. “It would have been. I was at your mercy. You could have killed me, and it would have spared the lives of eight Guards,” he said roughly. “Two died to my hand…”

“And six your Master, yes,” Tiq said and his mouth pulled into a frown. “Do you wish we had killed you?”

Maul blinked, a bit alarmed at the question. “I…” he hesitated, not sure what the answer should be, what he… Maul had caused them pain, had he not? Was that then the answer, that yes, in order to spare them further pain? But Maul did not want to cause pain anymore, did that count for something or was it nothing?

“Maul,” Tiq said, and his gaze was unwavering, pupiless eyes staring into his so sharply…

“No,” Maul finally said, for it was truth. He did not…Maul did not _want_ to die. He did not want to give this up. He did not want to stop learning and he… Maul thought of those Guards and softly, he let the words slip:

“They tried to protect me from my Master.”

“Who did?” Tiq asked.

“The Guards. One of…” Maul swallowed. “One of them called me little cousin…he said that his place was protecting me, that their place was between me and him. I told them to run…they did not…they all died. Why would he call me little cousin? I do not understand… I do not even know his name…”

“Tabak,” one of the Guards said then, her voice heavy and so… Maul had the sudden realization that she was crying. “His name was Tabak. He was a Zabrak that had been one of the first to volunteer to Guard you after you killed two of ours. He was…rather fond of you. Even after what you had done, he saw you and knew that more than condemnation, more than destruction, what you needed was someone to _protect_ you, someone to stand up _for you_ for once. He knew that what you needed was for someone to _care_. We see and we hear everything Lord Maul,” her voice was gentle, and it was soft, “and we know that he was right.”

Maul was quiet for a long moment, staring at them. “I do not understand,” he whispered finally.

“And _that_ is why, Lord Maul,” the other Guard said so softly, “we know that he was right.”

Maul held so still for a moment, taking this in, and then softly, “His name was Tabak?”

“Yes,” the first Guard said gently, “your Cousin’s name was Tabak.”

Maul was quiet once again, taking in the familial term, the bond that tied him to a man who was long dead. The feeling he had gained before from his meditation was fading, the oddness falling away and crumbling under something that he _knew_ , something that he was familiar with. A type of pain that stabbed up under his ribs, that he clung to and picked at.

“Mourning is in reaction to a loss,” Maul whispered softly.

“Yes,” Tiq said, meeting his gaze for a moment. “It is a type of pain, of _grief_ …”

Maul slowly nodded his head.

“I understand.” Maul was quiet for a longer moment. “Am I allowed?” and the question was soft and unsure and hurt somewhere deep in his chest.

“To _mourn_?” Tiq asked him.

“I do not…if he…it was my fault that my Master was even…”

“No, no,” the Guard said then, and the ray shield had dropped, and they were walking forward and their saberstaffs were placed before them as they lowered themselves to their knees on either side of Tiq. “Listen,” she said, and her voice was so firm, “Tabak and those Guards _made_ their choices, and your Master made his own. You, from what I recall, were tortured, and had your mind split into shreds. There was no way you forced Tabak to stand before you, and similarly you did not force any of the Guards. And I am rather certain you did not force your _Master_ to pour so much lightning into you your nerves were literally shorting. We know how many bacta infusions it took before you steadied. We know how you fell into a fugue for three months. Your Master stole so much from you…and if Tabak knew that _he_ was what caused you to realize just what he was taking from you He Would Be Proud.”

“And you, Maul, are _allowed_ to mourn the vast number of things that your Master has taken from you, and you _should_ …including your ability to know the one who called you family. Tabak _wanted_ to talk to you, he wanted to be able to do what we do now, and it is something that you will never know, and something he will never be able to do. You will never get to know him, and it is therefore something stolen…and it is therefore something that you are allowed to mourn.”

Maul took this in for a long moment and softly, “You mourn the others.”

“We do.”

“You mourn the ones that I killed.”

“We have.”

Maul nodded slowly. “I can use this pain inside of me,” he said softly. “I can use it for something else, to _do_ something else…this is not something you can do.”

“No,” came the soft agreement. “For us…pain is something that lingers, that we meditate upon, and then we let go. It is something that we _must_ let go of. And this letting go can allow us to sit here before you…and still want you to be well.”

Maul took this in for a long time, nodding slowly, and then finally, quietly, “I am sorry…for what I took from you.” Maul swallowed. “For what I took from _them_.”

“For our parts, Lord Maul,” the Guards spoke as one, gentle and soft, “we forgive you.”

And Maul did…not understand…

But he understood more than he had.

Perhaps that was worth something.

And perhaps it was not.

Maul did not understand.

But he did not resist when one of the Guards opened her arms to him, and when the other folded herself against him as well, the two of them holding him so tight and so warm, the thing in his chest stabbing somewhere deep… Maul thought that perhaps…this was not…so bad…

And when they finally let go Maul found himself sitting there quietly, the two Guards standing as one, taking up their positions with their saberstaffs once again held before them, the ray shield closing up behind them as though it had never been lowered… But they held those blades horizontally and not vertically, and when Maul looked to Tiq…

Tiq looked like he was crying, and he brushed a tear away, before smiling at him.

“I have forgiven you as well,” Tiq said softly. “And that forgiveness lingers, regardless of what we find that you have done, _whatever_ your past… For me, you are forgiven, and I will continue to do my best to help you understand.”

Maul slowly inclined his head. 

Tiq sighed, shifting, and Maul felt something fleeting and soft, before slowly, carefully, he opened his own arms, and let Tiq hold him.

And thought with a slowly growing dread, of the possibility of his Master coming back somehow…

And taking something more.

They said he was dead, and Maul recalled in a vague, empty sort of way the feeling of that broken ship, recalled his Master’s presence all over it…

But…

Maul closed his eyes.

That fear would not let go.

So, Maul would just have to use it. Maul needed to get stronger. Maul needed to…he needed to learn.

He needed to protect what was his.


End file.
